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CHARLES E. YOUNG 







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DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

IN 1865 



A Narrative of Actual Events 



By CHARLES E. YOUNG 
'I 



GENEVA, N. Y. 
1912 






COPYRIGHT, I912 
BY CHARLES E. YOUNG 



Press of W. F. Humphrey, Geneva, N. Y. 
H. DeF. Patterson, Illustrator, Geneva, N. Y. 



g;C!.A316862 

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PREFACE 

I present this narrative of actual events 
on a trip across the plains to Denver, 
Colorado, in 1865 and of life in the Far West 
in the later sixties. 

An interesting and valuable feature is a 
map of the country, made in 1865, by- 
Henry Bowles of Boston, showing the old 
Platte River and Smoky Hill Trails of that 
day before there was a railroad west of 
the Missouri River. 

Everything is told in a plain but truthful 
manner, and this little volume is submitted 
to the reader for approval or criticism. 

Chas. E. Young 
July, 1912 



CONTENTS 

Chapter I — Young Man, Go West 
Chapter II — Arrival at Fort Carney 
Chapter III^An Attack by the Indians 
Chapter IV — Denver in 1865 
Chapter V — ^A Proof of Markmanship 
Chapter VI — On to Leavenworth 
Chapter VII — A Plucky German 



CHAPTER I 




''YOUNG MAN, GO WEST 

ARLY in 1 859 geld was discovered in 
Colorado, and Horace Greeley, the 
well known writer and a power 
throughout the country both 
before and during the Civil 
War, made, in the interest of 
the New York Tribune, of 
which he was editor, an overland trip to 
Denver by the first stage line run in that 
day. He started from Leavenworth, Kan- 
sas, and with the exception of Mr. Rich- 
ardson, of the Boston Journal, was the only 
passenger in the coach. The trip was not all 
that could be desired, for they met with 
ntmierous hardships and many narrow escapes, 
as did hundreds of others who had preceded 
them over that dangerous trail, many never 
reaching their destination — having met death 
at the hands of the cruel Indians of the plains. 



8 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

During his stay in Denver Mr. Greeley 
wrote a number of letters to the New York 
Tribune, confirming the finding of gold in the 
territory and advising immigration. The 
people in the East were skeptical in regard to 
its discovery and awaited a written statement 
from him to this effect. 

At the close of the war Mr. Greeley's advice 
to young men, through the columns of his 
paper, was to go West and grow up with the 
country, and it became a byword throughout 
the State of New York and the Nation, 
"Young man, go West and grow up with the 
country.'* 

Could Mr. Greeley have foreseen the niim- 
ber of young lives that were to be sacrificed 
through his advice, I think he would have 
hesitated before giving it; yet, it was the most 
valued utterance of any public man of that 
day for the settlement of the then Far West. 

After reading a number of these letters in 
the New York Tribune, I became very enthu- 
siastic over the opportunities that the West 
offered for the young man. There was also a 
loyal friend of mine who became as enthusias- 




^— r 



10 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

tic over it as myself. Thus, while we were 
still so young as to be called boys, we made up 
our minds to follow Mr. Greeley's advice, 
and "Go West and grow up with the 
country." 

In making our purchases for the trip we were 
obliged to make our plans known to an 
acquaintance, who at once expressed a desire 
to accompany us. After consultation, we 
consented and at the appointed time, the fore 
part of July, 1865, just at the close of the Civil 
War, we boarded a New York Central train 
at the depot in Geneva, N. Y., with no thought 
of the hardships and dangers we would be 
called upon to meet. 

The first night found us at the Falls of 
Niagara — the most stupendous production of 
nature that the country was known to possess 
at that time. Our time was divided between 
the American and Canadian sides, viewing the 
grand spectacle at all hours, from the rising to 
the setting of the sun; and, awed by the 
marvelous masterpiece of grandeur, we were 
held as if fascinated by its beauty, until we 
were forced to leave for the want of food and 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL ii 

to replenish our commissary. When we 
boarded the cars to be whirled through the 
then wilds of Lower Canada, we were liberally 
supplied with the best the country produced. 
Upon the fifth day we rolled into Chicago, 
the cosmopolitan city of the West. Two days 
later we reached Quincy, 111., where we made 
connection with the old Hannibal & St. Joe 
Railroad which was to take us through Mis- 
souri to Atchison, Kansas. Missouri, after 
the war, was not an ideal state for a law abid- 
ing citizen, much less for inexperienced youths 
of our age, and we quickly realized that fact. 
Many stations had their quota of what was 
termed the Missouri bushwhacker, or, more 
plainly speaking, outlaws, who, during the 
war and for some time after, pillaged the state 
and surrounding coimtry, leaving in their 
wake death and destruction. They had be- 
longed to neither side at war, but were a set of 
vilHans banded together to plunder, burn, 
ravage and murder young and old alike; as 
wicked a set of villians as the world has ever 
known. At many stations they would nearly 
fill the car, making it very unpleasant for the 



12 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

passengers. Their language and insults 
caused every one to be guarded in conversa- 
tion. The condition of the road, however, 
often gave us relief, as we were obliged to 
alight and walk, at times, when arriving at a 
point where ties or rails had to be replaced. 
Its entire length showed the carnage and 
destruction of war, making travel slow and 
dangerous as well as uncomfortable. On 
reaching the state of bleeding Kansas and the 
then village of Atchison we were about used 
up. We at once called at the Ben Holliday 
Stage Ofhce and inquired the price of a ticket 
to Denver, but finding it to be beyond our 
means, we decided to go by ox conveyance. 

COMMANCHE BILL 

We were not long in finding what, in those 
days, was called a tavern, located in the out- 
skirts of the town. Having been chosen 
spokesman, I stepped up to the rough board 
counter and registered. We were soon con- 
fronted by the toughest individual we had 
yet seen. I pleasantly bade him good morn- 
ing but received no immediate recognition, 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 13 

save a wild stare from two horrible, bloodshot 
eyes. I quickly came to the conclusion that 
we were up against the real Western article, 
nor was I mistaken. He didn't keep up waiting 
long, for he soon roared out an oath and 
wanted to know where we were from. After 
telling him as near as I possibly could, under 
the circumstances, he again became silent. 
His look and brace of revolvers were not 
reassuring, to say the least. He soon came 
out of his trance and did not keep us long in 
suspense, for his next act was to pull out both 
of his life-takers, and, not in very choice 
language, introduce himself as Commanche Bill 
from Arkansas, emphasizing the Arkansas by 
letting the contents of both of his instruments 
of death pierce the ceiling of his story and a 
half shack. I have wondered many times 
since that I am alive. We had been told by a 
fellow passenger that Atchison was a little 
short of Hades, and we were fast realizing that 
our informer was not far out of the way; yet, 
it was a haven in comparison to other places at 
which we were yet to arrive. Commanche 
William, or whatever his right name might 



14 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

have been, was a different person after his 
forceful introduction. 

He began to question me. He asked me if 
we had any money. 

"Yes." 

"Any friends?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well, then you had better get straight back 
to them, for if you remain in these parts long, 
they will be unable to recognize you. Where 
are you fellows headed for, anyway?" 

"Denver, Colorado." 

"By stage?" 

"No, sir. By ox or mule conveyance." 

"You are too light weight. No freighter 
will hire you." 

"They will or we'll walk." 

"You will not walk far for the Indians 
along the Platte are ugly. By the way, do 
you pards ever take anything?" 

Not wishing to offend such a character, I 
gave my companions the wink and we followed 
him into the bar-room with the full determina- 
tion of making a friend of him. After all had 
done the sociable act — of course gentlemen 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 15 

only drink for sociability sake — I took him to 
one side purposely to draw him into a little 
private chat, and it was not long before his 
self-conceit had the better of him. He 
ordered grub — as all meals were called in the 
West in those days — ^for four, stating he was 
in need of a bite himself. Before the meal had 
been finished, I became convinced that the old 
fellow had a tender spot in his makeup, like all 
tough outlaws, and, if one had tact enough to 
discover it, he might have great influence over 
him; otherwise, we would be obliged to sleep 
with both eyes open and each with his right 
hand on the butt of his revolver. 

THE AMERICAN INDIAN 

The following day was passed in taking in 
the town and Indian Reservation, which was 
but a short distance from the place. There we 
came, for the first time, face to face with the 
American Indian, the sole owner of this vast 
and fertile continent before the paleface 
landed to dispute his right of ownership. 
Foot by foot they had been driven from East, 
North and South, unt;l at that time they were 



i6 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

nearly all west of the great Missouri River, or 
River of Mud, as the Indians called it. At 
the suggestion of our landlord, we took with 
us an interpreter, a few trinkets, and some- 
thing to moisten the old chief's Hps. Upon 
our arrival we were duly presented to the 
chief, who invited us to sit on the ground upon 
fur robes made from the pelts of different ani- 
mals, including the antelope and the buffalo, 
or American bison, the monarch of the plains, 
and each one of us in turn took a pull 
at the pipe of peace. We then made a 
tour of their lodges. When we returned, 
the chief called his squaws to whom we 
presented our gifts, which pleased them 
greatly. To the old chief I handed a bottle 
of Atchison's best. As he grasped it, a 
smile stole over his ugly face, and with a 
healthy grunt and a broad grin, he handed 
me back the empty bottle. Indians love 
liquor better than they do their squaws. 
In return he gave me a buffalo robe which later 
became of great service. After taking another 
pull at the pipe of peace, we thanked him and 
took our departure, having no desire to be 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 17 

present when Atchison's invigorator com- 
menced to invigorate his Indian brain. 

The impression made by that visit to a 
supposedly friendly tribe, who at that time 
had a peace treaty with the government, was 
not one of confidence. The noble red men, as 
they were called by the Eastern philanthropist, 
were as treacherous to the whites as an ocean 
squall to the navigator. No pen or picture 
has or can fully describe the cruelty of their 
nature. 

It was dusk when we reached our tavern, 
and we found it filled with a lawless band of 
degenerates, as repulsive as any that ever 
invested Western plains or canyons of the 
Rockies. We were at once surrounded and 
by a display of their shooting irons, forced to 
join in their beastly carnival. It was not for 
long, however, for a sign from the landlord 
brought me to his side. He whispered, * 'When 
I let my gims loose you fellows pike for the 
loft." There were no stairs. No sooner had 
he pulled his life-takers than all the others 
followed his example. Bullets flew in every 
direction. Clouds of smoke filled the room, 



1 8 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

but we had ducked and scaled the ladder to 
the loft and safety. Sleep was out of the 
question until the early hours of the morning, 
for the night was made hideous by blasphem- 
ous language, howls of pain and the ring of 
revolvers. The first call for grub found us 
ready and much in need of a nerve quieter, 
which the old sinner laughingly supplied ; but 
no word from him of the night's bloody work. 
Taking me to one side, he said, ''Take no 
offence, but repeat nothing you hear or see in 
these parts, and strictly mind your own 
business and a fellow like you will get into no 
trouble." I thanked him and followed his 
advice to the letter during my entire Western 
life. 

THE FIRST CAMP 

After that night's experience, we decided to 
pay our bill and become acclimated to camp 
life. We had taken with us a tent, blankets 
and three toy pistols, the latter entirely useless 
in that country, which proved how ignorant 
we were of Western ways. We were not long 
in finding a suitable camping spot a mile from 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 19 

the town and the same distance from the many 
corrals of the great Western freighters and pil- 
grims, as the immigrants were called. For 
miles we could see those immense, white 
covered prairie schooners in corral formation. 
Hundreds of oxen and mules were quietly 
grazing under the watchful eyes of their 
herders in saddle. It was certainly a novel 
sight to the tenderfoot. 

We soon had our tent up and leaving one of 
our number in charge the other two went to 
town for the necessary camp utensils and grub. 
Immediately on our return supper was pre- 
pared and the novelty enjoyed. After a three 
days' rest I started out to make the rounds of 
the corrals in search of a driver's berth. All 
freighters had a wagon boss and an assistant 
who rightfully had the reputation of being 
tyrants when on the trail, using tact and dis- 
cretion when in camp. A revolver settled all 
disputes. On approaching them they treated 
me as well as their rough natures would per- 
mit ; but I did not take kindly to any of them. 
They all told me that I was undersized, and 
too young to stand the dangers and hardships 



20 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

of a trip. I returned to camp much dis- 
appointed but not discouraged. 

The following morning we proceeded to 
the large warehouses on the river front, 
where all Western freighters were to be found. 
In those days all emigrants and oxen and 
mule trains with freight going to the far 
Western Territories would start from either 
Council Bluffs, Iowa, Leavenworth, Kansas, 
Atchison or St. Joe, Missouri; Atchison 
being the nearest point, a large majority 
embarked from there. The freight was 
brought up the Missouri River in flat- 
bottom steam-boats, propelled by a large 
wheel at the stern, and unloaded on the 
bank of the river. The perishable goods 
were placed in the large warehouses but 
the unperishable were covered with tarpaulin 
and left where unloaded. They were 
then transferred to large white covered 
prairie schooners and shipped to their 
different points of destination in trains of 
from twenty-five to one hundred wagons. 
The rate for freighting depended on the 
condition of the Indians and ran from ten 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 21 

cents per pound up to enormous charges in 
some cases. 

SECURING PASSAGE 

After making application to several of 
the freighters and receiving the same reply 
as from the wagon bosses, we went a short 
distance down the river to the last of the 
warehouses. On our approach we discovered 
a genuine buUwhacker — as all ox drivers were 
called in that day — in conversation with a 
short, stout-built fellow with red hair and 
whiskers to match. The moment he be- 
came disengaged I inquired if he was a 
freighter. He said that he was and that 
he wanted more men. His name was White- 
head, just the opposite to the color of his 
hair, and as I stepped up to him I wondered 
what kind of a disposition the combination 
made — whitehead, redhead. I at once made 
application for a position for the three of us. 
In rather a disagreeable voice, he asked me 
if I could drive. I replied that I could. 

"Can you handle a gun and revolver?" 

''Certainly." 



22 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

"How many trips have you made?" 

"None." 

"Then how the devil do you know you can 
drive?" 

"For the simple reason I am more than 
anxious to learn, and so are my friends." 
Then I made a clean breast of the position 
we were in and urged him to give us a chance. 

"Well," he said, "You seem to be a deter- 
mined little cuss; are the rest of the same 
timber?" 

I told him they were of the same wood 
but not of the same tree. 

After thinking the matter over, he said, 
"111 tell you what I will do. I will hire the 
big fellow for driver at one hundred and 
twenty-five dollars per month, and the little 
fellow for night herder at one hundred dollars 
a month, and yourself for cook for one mess 
of twenty-five men and for driver in case of 
sickness or death, at one hundred and twenty- 
five dollars a month." 

We then gave him our names, and, in return, 
he gave us a note to Mr. Perry, his wagon 
boss. We at once started for his corral. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 23 

two miles distant, where we found the gentle- 
man. He asked where our traps were. We 
told him, and also assured him that we would 
report for duty the following morning. 

When we reached our camp we were com- 
pletely tired out, but passed the remainder 
of the day in celebrating our success, and 
feeling assured that if we escaped the scalping 
knife of the Indians, we would reach Denver 
in due time, and, when paid off have a nice 
sum in dollars. 

The following morning we had an early 
breakfast, broke camp, and reported at the 
corral where each was presented with two 
revolvers and a repeating carbine. I was 
then taken over to the mess wagon which 
was liberally supplied with bacon (in the 
rough), flour, beans, cargimi (or sour mo- 
lasses), coffee, salt, pepper, baking-powder 
and dried apples; the latter we were allowed 
three times a week for dessert. There was 
also a skillet for baking bread, which 
resembled a covered spider without a handle. 

When the assistant cook, with whom I 
was favored, had started the fire and sufficient 



24 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

coals had accumulated, he would rake them 
out and place the skillet on them. As soon 
as the dough was prepared, a chunk was 
cut off and put in the skillet, the lid placed 
and covered with coals; in fifteen minutes 
we would have as nice a looking loaf of 
bread as one could wish to see, browned 
to a tempting color. When eaten warm, it 
was very palatable, but when cold, only 
bull whackers could digest it. An old- 
fashioned iron kettle in which to stew the 
beans and boil the dried apples, or vice versa, 
coffee pots, frying pans, tin plates, cups, 
iron knives and forks, spoons and a combina- 
tion dish and bread-pan made up the re- 
mainder of the cooking and eating utensils. 

EXPERIENCES AMONG THE BUSHWHACKERS 

It seemed that my assistant was exempt 
from bringing water, which often had to be 
carried in kegs for two miles, so he fried 
the meat and washed the dishes. I soon 
caught on to the cooking, and doing my 
best to please everyone, soon became aware 
of the fact that I had many friends among 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 25 

the toughest individuals on earth, the pro- 
fessional bull whackers, who, according to 
their own minds, were very important per- 
sonages. Their good qualities were few, 
and consisted of being a sure shot, and expert 
at lariat and whip -throwing. They would 
bet a tenderfoot a small sum that they could 
at a distance of twelve feet, abstract a small 
piece from his trousers without disturbing 
the flesh. They could do this trick nine 
times out of ten. The whips consisted of 
a hickory stalk two feet long, a lash twelve 
feet in length with buck or antelope skin 
snapper nine inches in length. The stalk 
was held in the left hand, the lash coiled 
with the right hand and index finger of the 
left. It was then whirled several times 
around the head, letting it shoot straight out 
and bringing it back with a quick jerk. It 
would strike wherever aimed, raising a dead- 
head ox nearly off its hind quarters and 
cutting through the hide and into the flesh. 
When thrown into space, it would make a 
report nearly as loud as a revolver. A 
lariat is a fifty foot line with a running noose 



26 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

at one end and made from the hide of various 
animals. It is coiled up and carried on the 
pommel of the saddle. When used for captur- 
ing animals or large game, it is whirled 
several times around the head when the 
horse is on a dead run and fired at the head 
of the victim. A professional can place 
the loop nearly every time. 

During the third day of corral life, the 
steers arrived, and the hard work, mixed 
with much fun, commenced. A corral is 
about the shape of an egg, closed by the 
wagons at one end, and left open to admit 
the cattle at the other, then closed by chains. 

MEANS OF TRANSPORTATION 

Our wheelers and leaders were docile, old 
freighters, the others were long-horned, wild 
Texas steers. All of the freighters had their 
oxen branded for identification, using the 
first letter of his last name for the purpose. 
The brand was made from iron and was 
about four inches in height, attached to a 
rod three feet in length. A rope was placed 
over the horns of the animal and his head 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 27 

was drawn tight to the hub of a heavy laden 
prairie schooner. A bullwhacker, tightly 
grasping the tail of the beast, would twist 
him to attention. The man with the brand- 
ing implement heated to a white heat would 
quickly jab the ox on the hind quarter, 
burning through hair and hide and into the 
flesh. Then, after applying a solution of 
salt and water, he was left to recover as best 
he could. The brand would remain in evi- 
dence more than a year unless the steer was 
captured by cattle thieves, who possessed a 
secret for growing the hair again in six months. 
When the branding was completed, each 
man was given twelve steers to break to yoke, 
and it was three long weeks before we were 
in shape to proceed on our long Western 
tramp. The cattle were driven in each 
morning at break of day, the same time as 
when on trail. Each man with a yoke on 
his left shoulder and a bow in his right hand 
would go groping about in almost total dark- 
ness to select his twelve steers. When they 
were all found he would yoke them and 
hitch them to the wagons; the wheelers 



28 . DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

to the tongue, the leaders in front and the 
balance to section chains. For days we 
were obliged to lariat the wildest of them 
and draw their heads to the hubs of the 
heavily laden wagons, before being able to 
adjust the yoke, many times receiving a 
gentle reminder from the hind hoof of one of 
the critters to be more careful. I went into 
the fray with the full determination of learn- 
ing the profession of driver and at the tenth 
day I had broken in a team of extras. 

ON THE SICK LIST 

I was then taken sick and for two long 
weeks kept my bed of earth under the mess 
wagon, with no mother or doctor, and two 
thousand miles from home. You may be 
able to imagine my feelings, but I doubt it. 
At the end of the second week Mr. Perry 
came and told me they would make a start 
the next afternoon and, in his judgment, he 
thought it unwise to think of making the 
trip in my present condition. I knew my 
condition was serious, but I would rather 
have died on the road, among those outlaws, 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 29 

than to have been left in Atchison among en- 
tire strangers. They were all very kind and 
did what they could for me, but were power- 
less to check my fast failing strength. I 
had wasted to less than one hundred pounds 
in weight and was too weak to even lift an 
arm. 

I pleaded with Mr. Perry for some time 
and finally overcame his objections. "Well," 
he said, * 'Charlie, I will fix a bed in my wagon 
and you can bunk with me." I objected, 
for I did not wish to discommode him in the 
least and told him a good bed could be fixed 
in the mess wagon. **As you will," he said, 
and had the boys get some straw which 
together with the Buffalo robe made a very 
comfortable bed when not on the move. 

A THUNDER STORM 

The next day they picked me up and put 
me in the second or reserve mess wagon. 
Shortly after that the start was made. 
We had covered less than two miles when all 
of a sudden I heard the rumbling of distant 
thunder. Very soon rain began to patter 



30 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

on the canvas covering of my wagon. Then 
Heaven's artillery broke loose and the water 
came down in torrents. Never in my young 
life had I witnessed such a storm. It seemed 
as if thunder, lightning and clouds had 
descended to earth and were mad with anger. 
The racket was deafening. Between the 
angered claps could be heard the cursing of 
those Missouri bushwhackers, who, in their 
oaths, defied the Almighty to do his worst 
and hurled unspeakable insults at the memory 
of the mothers who gave them birth. I knew 
they were trying hard to make corral ; whether 
they could do it, rested entirely with the 
wagon boss. 

The cattle were crazed with fright and the 
moment they were loose, would certainly 
stampede. The oxen were finally unyoked 
and such a snorting and bellowing, it would 
be impossible to describe. As the racket 
died away in their mad race, my thoughts 
turned to my chum, who I knew was with 
them, and would be trampled beyond recogni- 
tion by their death-dealing hoofs, if he had 
not gained his proper position in the rear. 




LOG CABIN IN KANSAS 



32 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

THE LOG CABIN 

At that juncture the front flaps of my 
wagon were parted and at a flash I recognized 
two of the men, who bore me across the way 
to the ''Old Log Cabin" on the extreme 
edge of the then Western civilization. As 
they laid me down I swooned from sheer 
exhaustion and fright. Before I had be- 
come fully conscious I heard that gruff old 
wagon boss telling the good woman of the 
cabin to spare nothing for my comfort. 
She felt of my pulse, asked me a few ques- 
tions and assured him that she would soon 
have me on my feet. He bade ''God bless 
me," and passed out into the dark and 
stormy night. The good woman poked up 
the fire and placed an old-fashioned, iron tea- 
kettle in position to do its duty. At that 
juncture a young miss about my own age 
came from somewhere, as if by magic, and 
was told by the good mother to prepare a 
chicken, that she might make broth for the 
sick young mxan, pointing to where I lay. 
For two hours that good mother worked over 
me, now and then giving me draughts of 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL .33 

hot herb tea, while the daughter deftly 
prepared nature's wild bird of the prairie, 
occasionally shooting darts of sympathy from 
her jet black eyes. When the bird had been 
cooked, the meat and bones were removed 
leaving only the broth which was seasoned 
to a nicety and given me in small quantities 
and at short intervals until early morning, 
when I passed into dreamland with the 
mother keeping vigil as though I were her 
own son. When I awoke I felt refreshed 
and comfortable, and found her still at my 
side, doing for me that which only a mother 
can. 

At daybreak I heard footsteps above; 
presently the father and son came in. The 
daughter was called and breakfast was pre- 
pared. They told me that our cattle had 
stampeded and it might be days before they 
were found. After a three days search my 
chum and the cattle were overtaken miles 
from camp, but none the worse for their 
fearful experience. The moment he arrived 
he came to see me. I was sitting up for the 
first time, wrapped in Indian blankets, but 



34 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

very weak. I assured him that I would 
certainly get well, emphasizing the fact, 
however, that had we not run into that 
fearful storm, making my present haven of 
care possible, I could never have recovered, 
and believed that the prayers of a loving 
mother at home had been answered. 

A CATTLE STAMPEDE 

He then related his experience with those 
storm-maddened cattle. The first clap of 
thunder awoke him, and when the rain be- 
gan he knew he was in for a bad night, and 
had taken every precaution to supply himself 
with all things needful. His description of 
the storm and mad race to keep up with those 
wild animals, crazed with fright, was enough 
to congeal the blood of a well man, and in 
my condition it nearly unnerved me. But 
I was delighted to know that he was safe, 
for we were like brothers. His safe arrival, 
together with the motherly care I had re- 
ceived and was receiving, put me rapidly on 
the gain. Not a morning passed that the 
daughter did not shoulder her trusty rifle 



36 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

and go out in search of some refreshment for 
me, always returning with a ntimber of 
chickens of the prairie. She was a sure shot, 
as were the entire family, for they were 
all born and brought up on the border, 
moving farther West as the country became 
settled. From the father I learned the 
treachery of the Indians, their mode of war- 
fare and different methods of attack; in fact, 
I had the devilish traits of the noble red men — 
as history called them — down to a nicety. 

When the daughter's day's work was done, 
she would read to me and relate stories of 
her Hfe, which reminded me of the ''Wild 
Rose" in all its purity and strength. 

The fifth day after the cattle were found 
the train broke corral and proceeded on its 
long Western tramp. Before leaving, Mr. 
Perry made arrangements with the old border- 
man for me to overtake them as soon as I 
was able. 

The fourth day after the train had left, 
I made up my mind that I would start the 
next morning at sunrise and so informed 
my Western friends, whom, I felt, had saved 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 37 

my life. The old borderman expressed regret 
at my leaving and informed me that both he 
and his son would accompany me to camp. 
I thanked him and assured him that I felt 
a mother could not have done more for her 
own son than his wife had for me — they 
had all shown me every consideration pos- 
sible — and that I should always remember 
them, which I have. At this juncture the 
mother spoke up gently, but firmly, and 
addressing her husband, said, ''If you have 
no objection, daughter will accompany Mr. 
Young. She is a sure shot, a good horse- 
woman, and the horses are fleet of foot. 
We have not heard of any Indians in the 
neighborhood for some time, and besides she 
wants to go and the ride will do her good." 

He replied, ''My good woman, you cannot 
tell where the Indians are, they may be miles 
away today, but here this very night." 

"That is true," she said, "but the stage 
driver told me that he had not seen a red- 
skin since crossing the Nebraska line." 

"That may be," he replied, "still they may 
have been in the bluffs, or sand hills watching 



38 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

their opportunity to surprise one of the 
many small trains of pilgrims, thinking to 
overpower them, run off their cattle and 
massacre all." 

''Yes, that is all true, but I'll wager they 
could not catch our girl." 

After thinking silently for a few moments, 
he said, "Well, if you wish, she may go; 
but if anything happens to our little one, 
you alone will be blamed." 

That settled it. We talked long after 
father and brother had bade us good night. 
Mother and daughter finally retired; but, 
as for myself, I was nervous and restless, 
sleeping little, thinking of home and loved 
ones; not, however, forgetting the little 
''Wild Rose" that was separated from me 
only by a curtain partition. 

The following morning we were up at 
break of day, and at just 5:30 on a lovely 
August morning the horses were brought to 
the door and both quickly mounted. Her 
riding habit of buckskin, trimmed with 
colored beads, was the most becoming costume 
I had ever seen on her during my stay, and 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 39 

for the first time I wished that I were not 
going, but it was for a moment only. 

WITH THE WAGON TRAIN AGAIN 

My destination was Denver, and nothing 
could change my plans except death in the 
natural way, or being cut down by those 
treacherous plains roamers. After a pleasant 
ride which lasted till noon, we came in sight 
of the corral. When within a quarter of a 
mile of it, she informed me she was going no 
farther. Both quickly dismounted. Our 
conversation would not interest you. Suf- 
fice to say, the parting was painful to both. 
I bade her good-bye and she was off like a 
flash. I walked slowly into camp, now 
and then turning to watch the fast 
retreating figure of as brave a prairie 
child as ' nature ever produced. The 
men appeared glad to see me; the gruff 
old wagon boss more so than any of the 
others, for he would not let me turn my 
hand to any kind of work until I was able. 
Then I did my best to repay him for his 
many kindnesses. 



40 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

At 2 o'clock that afternoon the train 
broke corral, and for the first time I realized 
the slowness of our progress, and the long 
trip before us. Under the most favorable 
circumstances we could not make over ten 
miles a day and more often at the beginning 
three, five and seven. 

Our bed was mother earth, a rubber blanket 
and buffalo robe the mattress, two pairs of 
blankets the covering, Heaven's canopy the 
roof; the stars our silent sentinels. The 
days were warm, the nights cool. We would 
go into camp at sundown. The cattle were 
unyoked and driven to water. After grub 
the night herder and one of the drivers 
would take them in charge, and if there were 
no Indians following, would drive them to a 
good grazing spot over the bluffs. 

We passed through Kansas, after crossing 
the Little and Big Blue rivers, and part of 
Nebraska without seeing another log cabin 
or woods. Every fifteen or twenty miles 
there was a stage station of the Ben Holiday 
coach line, which ran between Atchison, 
Kansas, and Sacramento, California. At 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 41 

every station wotild be a relay of six horses, 
and by driving night and day wovild make 
one hundred miles every twenty-four hours. 
They were accompanied by a guard of United 
States soldiers on top of coaches and on 
horseback. 




FORT CARNEY, NEBRASKA, I859 




CHAPTER II 
ARRIVAL AT FORT CARNEY 

RRIVING at Fort Carney we 
struck the Platte River trail 
leading to Denver. We were 
compelled by United States 
army officers to halt and await 
the arrival of a train of fifty 
armed men before being 
allowed to proceed. In a few 
hours the required number came up, together 
with three wagon loads of pilgrims. No train 
was permitted to pass a Government fort 
without one hundred well-armed men; but 
once beyond the fort, they would become 
separated and therein lay the danger. 

A captain was appointed by the com- 
mander of the fort to take charge. Here 
we struck the plains proper, or the great 
American desert, as it was often called, the 
home of the desperate Indians, degraded 
half-breeds, and the squaw man — white men 
with Indian wives — who were at that time 



44 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

either French or Spanish; also the fearless 
hunters and trappers with nerves of steel, 
outdoing the bravest Indian in daring and 
the toughest grizzly in endurance. It is a 
matter of record that these men of iron were 
capable and some did amputate their own 
limbs. A knife sharpened as keen as a 
razor's edge would cut the flesh; another 
hacked into a saw would separate the bones 
and sensitive marrow; while an iron heated 
to white heat seared up the arteries and the 
trick was done. There was no anesthetic 
in those days. 

There were also the cattle and mule thieves 
who lived in the bluffs, miles from the trail 
of white men, a tough lot of desperadoes, 
believing in the adage ''Dead men tell no 
tales." 

There were the ranchmen at intervals of 
twenty, fifty and a hundred miles, who sold 
to the pilgrims supplies, such as canned 
goods, playing cards, whiskey of the vilest 
type, and traded worn-out cattle, doctored to 
look well for a few days and then give out, 
thus'cheatingpreighters and pilgrims alike. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 45 

These adobe ranches were built of sod cut 
in lengths of from two to four feet, four 
inches in thickness and eighteen inches in 
width and laid grass side down. The side 
walls were laid either single or double, six 
feet in height, with the end walls tapering 
upward. A long pole was then placed from 
peak to peak and shorter poles from side walls 
to ridge pole. Four inches of grass covered 
the poles and the same depth of earth com- 
pleted the structure making the best fortifi- 
cations ever devised; no bullet was able to 
penetrate their sides nor could fire burn them. 
The poles used for building these adobe 
ranches were in most cases hauled two 
hundred miles and in some cases three hundred 
miles. 

WILD ANIMALS OF THE WEST 

On a graceful slope roamed immense herds 
of buffalo, bands of elk, thousands of antelope^ 
herds of black- and white-tail deer and the 
large gray wolf. Coyotes about the size of 
a shepherd dog would assemble on the high 
bluffs or invade the camp and make night 



46 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

hideous by their continuous and almost 
perfect imitation of a human baby's cry, 
making sleep impossible. The prairie dog, 
the fierce rattlesnake, and the beautiful 
little white burrowing-owl, occupied the same 
hole in the ground, making a queer family 
combination. Contrary to the belief of all 
dwellers and travelers of the plains in that 
day. Colonel Roosevelt claims it is not a 
fact that the three mentioned animals oc- 
cupied the same quarters together, and that 
the story is a myth. 

The little prairie dogs had their villages 
the same as the Indians. I have frequently 
seen a prairie dog come out and return into 
the same hole in the ground. I have also 
seen a beautiful little white owl silently 
perched at the side of the same hole and 
finally enter it, and a few moments later a 
fierce rattlesnake would crawl into the same 
hole. Whether it was the snake's permanent 
abode and it went in for a much needed rest, 
or whether it was an enemy to the others 
and the snake went in for a game supper of 
prairie dog puppies and owl squabs, depart- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 47 

ing by another route, I am unable to say, 
as I never took the trouble to investigate one 
of the holes to confirm the fact. If I had, 
I would in all probability still be digging. 
However, in this case, I am inclined to give 
Colonel Roosevelt the benefit of the doubt 
for the reason that if nature had not created 
an enemy to check their increase, the prairie 
dog would now over-run the country, as they 
multiply faster than any known animal, and 
are very destructive to the farm. The Gov- 
ernment, through its agents, have destroyed 
thousands every year in the West by distribut- 
ing poisoned grain. Last, but not least, of 
the life of the plains was the Pole Cat. Con- 
scious of his own ability to protect himself, he 
would often invade the camps at night, mak- 
ing the life of the sleeper miserable. 

TROUBLE EN ROUTE 

After leaving Fort Carney our troubles 
began. Many of the drivers were as treacher- 
ous as the Indians and would bear watching. 
One of them in our mess was a former bush- 
whacker, who bore many scars of his former 



48 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

unsavory life, one of which was the loss of 
an eye, which did not make him a very desir- 
able acquaintance, much less a companion. 
He was of an ugly disposition, very seldom 
speaking to anyone and very few taking the 
trouble to speak to him. At times he acted 
as if he had been taking something stronger 
than coffee, but as we had not camped near 
any ranch where the poison could be pro- 
cured, I came to the conclusion that he was 
a dope fiend. In some mysterious manner 
we had lost one of our cups, and at each meal 
for a week it fell to the lot of this particular 
bushwhacker to get left. He at last broke 
his long silence, and in anger with oaths, 
vowed he would not eat another meal with- 
out a cup, and would certainly take one 
from somebody, if obliged to. As soon as 
the call for grub was heard the next morning, 
all rushed simultaneously for a cup, and 
Mr. Bushwhacker got left again. Without 
ceremony he proceeded to make good 
his threat, the second cook being his 
victim. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 49 

TROUBLE EN ROUTE 

For his trouble he received a stinging blow 
over his good eye, and was sent sprawling 
in the alkali dust. Not being in the least 
dismayed, he rushed for another and received 
a similar salute on the jaw, doubling him up 
and bringing him to the earth. By this time 
both messes joined in forming a ring and 
called for fair play. Mr. Perry tried hard 
to stop it, but was finally convinced that it 
was better policy to let them have it out. 
How many times the fellow was knocked 
down, I do not remember, but the last round 
finished him. We carried him to the shady 
side of his wagon, covered him with a blanket 
and resumed our meal. On going into corral, 
we always took our revolvers off and placed 
them where they could easily be reached. 
We had been eating but a short time, when 
the report of a gun rang out and each man 
fairly flew for his weapons. Indians seldom 
made an attack except at early morning, 
when the oxen were being yoked or when we 
were going into corral at night. To the 
surprise of everyone Mr. Bushwhacker had 



50 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

taken another lease of life and with a revolver 
in each hand was firing at anyone his dis- 
turbed brain suggested. He was quick of 
action, firing and reloading with rapidity, 
and soon had the entire camp playing hide 
and seek between, around and under the 
wagons to keep out of the range of his guns, 
which we succeeded in doing, for not a man 
was hit. Finally, two of the drivers suc- 
ceeded in getting behind him and over- 
powered him. His brother bushwhackers 
were in for lynching him on the spot, but 
wiser council prevailed, and his disposal 
was left to Mr. Perry who sentenced him to 
be escorted back three miles from the corral 
and left to walk the remaining two miles 
to Fort Carney alone. He covered less than 
a mile when he was captured by the Indians. 
I was obliged then to drive his team. A few 
evenings later my chimi and friend were 
lounging by the side of my wagon smoking, 
and otherwise passing the time away, when 
finally the conversation turned to the de- 
parted driver who by that time had undoubt- 
edly been disposed of by the Indians — not 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 51 

a very pleasant thought — but we consoled 
ourselves with the fact that no one was to 
blame but himself. My chum inquired 
the contents of my prairie schooner, and 
I replied that I did not know, but would 
investigate. Suiting the action to the word 
I crawled in, struck a match, and found a 
case labeled Hostetters' Bitters. Its ingredi- 
ents were one drop of Bitters and the re- 
mainder, poor liquor. I soon found a case 
that had been opened, pulled out a bottle 
and sampled it. The old story came to me 
about the Irish saloonkeeper and his bar- 
tender. I called my chum and asked him if 
Murphy was good for a drink, he replied, 
"Has he got it?" "He has?" "He is then!" 
and we all were. I thought it would be im- 
possible for the secret to be kept, but it was 
until we were on the last leg to Denver. 
The entire load consisted of cases of the 
Bitters. Fights were of frequent occurrence 
during the remainder of the trip, Mr. Perry 
being powerless to prevent them. 

Arriving at Central City where the Bitters 
were consigned, the consignee reported to 



52 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

the freighter that the load just received con- 
sisted of one-half Bitters, the remainder 
Platte river water. Each man had twenty 
dollars deducted from his pay, and a large 
number of the drivers, in addition, bore ear- 
marks of its effect. 

The country from Fort Carney for four 
hundred miles up the Platte river valley 
and back from the high bluffs, that skirted 
the river on either side, was one vast rolling 
plain with no vegetation except a coarse 
luxuriant growth of grass in the valley near 
the river and beyond the bluffs; in spots 
that were not bare grew the prickly pear, 
and a short crisp grass of lightish color and 
of two varieties — the bunch and buffalo 
grasses — which were very nutritious, as the 
cattle thrived and grew fat on them. There 
was the clear sky and sun by day, with an 
occasional sandstorm; the moon (when out) 
and stars by night, but no rain — a vast 
thirsty desert. On the small islands of the 
river a few scattered cottonwood trees were 
to be seen. Their high branches embraced 
a huge bunch of something that resembled 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 53 

the nest of an American Eagle, but on close 
inspection was found to be the corpse of 
a lone Indian a long time dead. This was 
the mode of burial of some of the tribes 
in the early days, using fur robes or blankets 
for a casket. There was nothing to relieve 
the monotony in this desert land, except 
desperate Indians, immense herds of animal 
life, daily coaches — when not held back 
or captured by the Indians or mountain 
highwaymen — returning freight trains, and 
the following points where there were adobe 
ranches: Dog Town, Plum Creek, Beaver 
Creek, Godfrey's, Moore's, Brever's at Old 
California Crossing and Jack Morrow's at 
the junction of the north and south Platte, 
Fort Julesburg, Cotton Wood and the Junc- 
tion, each one hundred miles apart, and John 
Corlew's and WilHam Kirby near O' Fallow's 
Bluffs. It was said of these ranchmen that 
some were honest and some were not; others 
were in league with the Indians, and cattle 
and mule thieves, and, as a rule, a bad 
lot. They traded suppHes to the Indians 



54 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

for furs of every kind. The winter passed 
in hunting, trapping, drinking, and 
gambHng. 

o'fallow's bluffs 

O' Fallow's Bluffs was a point where the 
river ran to the very foot of the bluffs making it 
necessary for all of the trains to cross, then 
again strike Platte river trail at Alkali Creek, 
the waters of which were poisonous to man 
and beast. The trail over the bluffs was of 
sand, and those heavily ladened, white cov- 
ered prairie schooners would often sink to 
the hubs, requiring from fifty to seventy- 
five yoke of oxen to haul them across, often 
being compelled to double the leading yoke 
as far back as the wheelers, then doubling 
again, would start them on a trot, and with 
all in line and pulling together, would land 
the deeply sunken wheels on solid ground. 
It took one entire day to again reach river 
trail, which was hard and smooth. O 'Fal- 
low's Bluffs was a point feared by freighters 
and emigrants alike. At this point many a 
band of pilgrims met destruction at the 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 55 

hands of the fiendish redskins of the plains. 
Directly upon going into camp at night a 
party of them would ride up, demand coffee, 
whiskey, or whatever they wanted, and hav- 
ing received it, would massacre the men and 
children, reserving the women for a fate a 
thousand fold worse, as they were very 
seldom rescued by the tardy government, 
whose agents were supplying the Indians 
with guns, ammunition and whiskey to 
carry on their hellish work unmolested. 
When captured, which was seldom, were 
they hung as they deserved? No, the chief 
with a few others, who stood high in the 
councils of the tribe, were taken by stage to 
Atchison, Kansas, there transferred to luxuri- 
antly equipped sleeping cars of that day, 
and whirled on to Washington; and, in war 
paint and feather and with great pomp, were 
presented to their great white father (the 
President) as they called him. 



56 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

ABUSES OF THE INDIAN DEPARTMENT 

They were then taken in charge by Repre- 
sentatives of the Indian department of the 
Government, that in those days was honey- 
combed with corruption from foundation to 
dome; a disgraceful and blood-stained spot 
in the Nation's history. Day after day 
and night after night they were shown the 
sights of that great city. The capitol of a 
free and growing Republic whose people 
respected the Constitution their fathers had 
drafted, signed and fought for. Day after 
day and night after night they were courted, 
dined, toasted and wined until they had be- 
come sufficiently mellow to be cajoled into 
signing another peace treaty, and were then 
given money and loaded down with presents 
as an inducement to be good. They were 
then returned to the agency at the Fort, 
having been taken from there and back by 
those red-nosed, liquor-bloated Indian De- 
partment guardians of the United States 
Government and were freely supplied with 
whiskey until they were willing to part with 
their cattle, furs, and beaded goods at ex- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 57 

tremely low figures, in exchange for pro- 
visions, guns, ammunition, and liquor at 
fabulously high prices. Robbed of their 
money and presents, and in this condition 
allowed to return to their village, where 
when they become sober, they would 
quickly awaken to a realizing sense of 
how they had been deceived, swindled and 
robbed. 

What could you expect from those copper- 
colored savages of the soil after such treat- 
ment? With no regard for the treaty they 
had signed, they would resume the war- 
path. Revenge, swift and terrible, was meted 
out to the innocent pilgrims and freighters 
who had left home, comforts and friends. 
Hundreds sacrificed their lives by horrible 
tortures in their heroic efforts to settle the 
West, unconscious that they were making 
history for their country and the nation, 
great. 

With no respect for the United States 
Government, with no respect for the flag 
with its cluster of stars and stripes of red, 
white and blue that fired the heart of every 



58 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

living American soldier to win victory at 
Valley Forge, which gained our independ- 
ence, Antietam, and San Juan Hill, saved the 
nation, reunited the union of states in lasting 
friendship, lifted the yoke of tyranny from 
an oppressed people; and, as if with one 
stroke, swept from the high seas two power- 
ful naval squadrons — the pride of the Spanish 
nation. 

Washington, Lincoln and McKinley were 
backed by the old glory that electrified every 
loyal American with patriotism to respond 
to the call of duty for the love of their country 
and the "Star Spangled Banner," that at 
that time fluttered high above the parapet 
of every Government fort as an emblem of 
protection to all that were struggling on and 
on over that vast expanse of unbroken and 
treeless plain; can you wonder then that 
the unspeakable crimes and mistakes of the 
Government of those days still rankle in the 
breast of every living man and woman that 
in any way participated in the settlement 
of the West? If you do, look on the paint- 
ing of the terrible annihilation of the gallant 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 59 

Custer and his five companies of the Seventh 
U. S. Cavalry with the old chief, Sitting Bull, 
and his band of Sioux Indians on the Big 
Horn River, June 25, 1876, from which not 
a man escaped to tell the tale, and you may 
form some conception of the hardships, 
suffering, and cruelties inflicted on the early 
pioneer. It was left for the resourceful 
Remington to vividly portray life and 
scenes of those days, perpetuating their 
memory on canvas and bronze for all time. 
The name of Frederick Remington should 
not only go down in history as the greatest 
living artist of those scenes, but his bust in 
bronze should be given a place in the Hall of 
Fame as a tribute to his life and a recogni- 
tion of his great worth. 




CHAPTER III 
AN ATTACK BY THE INDIANS 

'FALLOW'S Bluffs was the most 
dismal spot on the entire 
trail. Its high walls of earth 
and over-hanging, jagged 
rocks, with openings to the 
rolling plain beyond, made 
it an ideal point for the 
sneaking, cowardly savages to attack the 
weary pilgrims and freighters. The very 
atmosphere seemed to produce a feeling of 
gloom and approaching disaster. The 
emigrants had been repeatedly instructed 
by the commander at Fort Carney to 
corral with one of the trains. Many of the 
bullwhackers were desperate men, so that 
the poor pilgrims were in danger from two 
sources, and very seldom camped near either 
corral. Our consort was a day's drive in 
the rear. That evening the emigrants camped 
about a half mile in advance of our train. 
It was at this point, when unyoking our oxen 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 6i 

at evening that a large band sneaked over the 
bluffs for the purpose, as we supposed, of 
stampeding our cattle. They did not take 
us unawares, however, for we never turned 
cattle from corral until the assistant wagon 
boss surveyed the locality in every direction 
with a field glass, for the tricky redskin 
might be over the next sand hill. 

Fifty good men could whip five times their 
number, especially when fortified by those 
immense white covered prairie schooners 
in corral formation. On they came in single 
file, their blood-curdHng war whoop enough 
to weaken the bravest. Closer they came, 
bedecked in war-paint and feathers, their 
chief in the lead resembling the devil incarnate 
with all his aids bent on exterminating as 
brave a band of freighters as ever crossed 
the plains. Nearer they came, their ponies 
on a dead run, the left leg over the back, 
the right under and interlocking the left, 
firing from the opposite side of them, duck- 
ing their heads, encircling the camp and 
yelling like demons. Their racket, together 
with the yelping of their mongrel dogs and 




^^^"''^''"'^'''''i''''^'''^''^i'"'^''''^^^^ 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 63 

the snorting and bellowing of the cattle, 
made it an unspeakable hell. Every man 
stood to his gun, and from between the 
wagons, at the command of the wagon boss, 
poured forth with lightning rapidity his leaden 
messengers of death. For about an hour 
they made it very interesting for us. It 
was almost impossible to hit one as they kept 
circling the camp, drawing nearer with each 
circle made. How many were killed we 
did not know as they carried them off, but 
from the number of riderless ponies, a dozen 
or more must have been dispatched to their 
happy hunting grounds. During the fight 
a portion of them bore down on the poor 
pilgrims' camp, in plain sight, and mas- 
sacred all, running off their cattle and such 
of their outfit as they wanted. 

SAVAGES IN THEIR GLORY 

Mothers with babes at their sides and with 
uplifted, clasped hands, implored the cruel 
warriors for mercy, but it was like pouring 
water on the desert sands. Crazed by thirst 
for blood and the scalps of the whites, they 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 65 

knew no mercy. The hatchet-like tomahawk 
glittering in the evening twilight, held with 
a vice-like grip in the hand of a cowardly 
savage, came down at last with such force 
as to crush through skull and brain, and all 
was over. We were powerless to render 
assistance. The scene was heartrending. 
The depredations of these savages is too 
revolting to relate, and after completing their 
hellish work, they sneaked back as they 
came, keeping up their sickening yell until 
distance drowned it entirely. Few days pas- 
sed that they were not seen as evening ap- 
proached, and after dark we were able to 
know that they were in the vicinity, watch- 
ing their opportunity to surprise us at early 
morning, by signal arrows of fire shot into 
the heavens to make known their where- 
abouts to companions. Could these silent 
bluffs of sand but unfold the butchery and 
unspeakable outrages inflicted on innocent 
men, women and children, could the trail 
through the valley of the Platte, and even 
more dangerous trail of the Smoky Hill 
give up its secrets, it would reveal a dark 



66 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

page in the history of our Government, which 
was directly responsible for a great deal of it; 
responsible in so far as sending unscrupulous 
peace commissioners to the different agencies 
to make treaties of peace with tribes of 
Indians, and who kept them just long enough 
to become liberally supplied with provisions, 
clothing, guns, ammunition and whiskey, 
then ravish and murder in the most diabolical 
manner pilgrims and freighters alike. On 
both trails many a silent monument of stone 
was all that remained of their cruel depreda- 
tions. Such was not the uncommon work 
of the fiends, known to readers of fiction as 
the noble red men of the plains. More 
dastardly cowards never existed. Their 
struggles against destiny have long since 
been broken, and the offspring of those cruel 
warriors are being educated by a gracious 
government. 

The monotony of that lonesome and tedious 
tramp was enlivened only by fights among 
the men, and an occasional lay-over for a day 
to set the tires of the many wagons, having 
had no rain to keep them tight during 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 67 

the entire trip after leaving Atchison, 
Kansas. 

With many encounters and bearing scars 
received from warring tribes of Indians, 
we tramped along in moccasin covered feet, 
now and again throwing our long lashed 
whips with such force as to awaken the dead- 
head ox to life and quicker action. 

Day after day the same scenery faced us; 
yet, it was an experience never to be forgotten. 
We passed Fort Julesburg and Cottonwood 
with the loss of but three men, arriving late at 
night after a forced drive at the junction or 
division of the two trails leading to Denver. 
The distance to Denver by the ''Cut-off" 
was seventy-five miles; by the river route 
one hundred miles; but as water was to be 
found only at long distances on the former, 
all cattle trains took the river route. 

It was early in November, the nights and 
mornings were cold and frosty, the air 
exhilarating. We were up the next morning 
at the usual time, and as the sun rose in all 
its splendor and warmth, one hundred miles 
in the far away distance could be seen with 



68 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

the naked eye, the gigantic range of the 
Rockies whose lofty snow-capped peaks, 
sparkling in the morning sun, seemed to 
soar and pierce the clouds of delicate shades 
that floated in space about them, attracted, 
as it were, by a heavenly magnet. It was a 
sight I had not dreamed of, and one that 
made an impression on my young mind to 
last through life. 

DENVER AT LAST ! 

When about ten miles from Denver — so 
we at least thought, and fearless of danger, 
my chum and myself obtained permission 
from Mr. Perry to walk to the city over the 
rolling ground. We tramped until the sun 
was well up in the heavens. One would 
think it but a few miles to those mighty 
and solemn mountains of rocks, so deceptive 
was the distance, yet, they were twenty 
miles beyond the city. At noon we knew 
we had made ten long miles and were com- 
pletely tired out. We were on the point 
of taking a rest when I urged my chum to 
cross the next knoll, and if the city did not 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 69 

loom up we would halt. We did so and to 
our surprise and joy were right in the city 
of Denver, the "Mecca" of neariy all Western 
freighters and distributing point for the 
far Western territories. It seemed to have 
risen beneath our feet. The grand old range 
of mountains with their sky-soaring pinnacles 
and scenic background of grandeur, together 
with the surrounding landscape, made it the 
sight of one's life. Our sixteen mile walk 
and previous seventy days' living on 
a diet of bacon, beans, and dried apples, 
certainly placed us in condition for a civilized 
meal. 

We were directed to a first-class restaurant, 
both in price and quality of food. We were 
about famished, and to satisfy our hunger 
seemed impossible. We ate and ate, and 
probably would have been eating yet, had 
not the waiter presented us with a ticket 
demanding a five dollar gold piece from each, 
when we decided we had better call a halt, if 
we intended to remain in the city over 
night. 



70 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

On walking up the street we stepped into 
the first hotel we came to, the old "Planters," 
registered, paid for our supper, lodging and 
breakfast. When about to leave the hotel, 
who should walk in but a Genevan by name, 
Michael C. Pembroke, with his arm in a 
sling. He had been propelled across the 
plains by mules, and one of the ugly brutes 
had broken his right arm with one of his ever 
active hoofs. I asked Michael why the 
mule kicked him? He replied, "Charlie, 
I may look foolish but was not fool enough 
to go back and ask him." Never approach 
a Missouri mule from the rear, for there 
certainly will be trouble if you do. He asked 
if we had any money. 

We replied that we would have when paid 
o&. 

He advised us to go direct to the Ben 
Holiday stage ofhce and buy a ticket for the 
States as soon as we received our pay, as 
Colorado was no place for boys. 

At his suggestion we started out to do the 
town, and came very near being done our- 




MICHAEL C. PEMBROKE 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 71 

selves. Colorado at this time was a terri- 
tory with a Governor appointed by the 
President. Law, except as executed by a 
vigilance committee, did not amount to much 
more than the word. If one wished to depart 
life in full dress, he could be accommodated 
by simply calling another a liar or cheat at 
gambHng. If desirous of taking a long rest 
by being suspended by the neck from a limb 
of the only tree in Denver at that time, which 
was on the west side of Cherry Creek, all he 
had to do was to appropriate to himself an 
ox, mule, or anything of value, and the 
vigilance committee would manipulate the 
rope. 

The gambling places, which occupied long 
halls on the ground floor of tall buildings — 
nearly always on the business street of the 
city — kept open until the small hours of 
morning. There was always a brass band 
in front, and a string band, or orchestra, in 
the extreme rear, so if one wished to dance, 
he could select a partner of most any na- 
tionality; dance a set, step up to the bar, 
pay two bits or twenty-five cents for cigars, 



72 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

drinks or both and expend his balance on 
any game known to the profession, which 
games occupied either side of the long room. 

We had been in the place less than fifteen 
minutes when bang went a revolver and on 
the instant the room was in total darkness. 
I mechanically ducked under a table. Where 
my companions were, I knew not; I began to 
think that Mike's advice was about correct, 
and before emerging wished more than once 
I w^as back in my home. When the lights 
were turned on, I discovered my chum 
occupying a like berth of safety on the op- 
posite side of the room. 

Mike had evidently followed his own 
advice and taken his departure, for he was 
nowhere to be found. The band struck up 
a lively tune; the fiddles, a waltz; dancing 
began, gold and chips commenced to fly, 
and, if I had not passed through the ordeal, 
I never would have known anything had 
happened. The dead were quickly disposed 
of, the wounded hurried to physicians, 
and old timers gave it no further thought, 
as it was of frequent occurrence, and one 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 73 

soon became hardened. Denver at that time 
was a hotbed of gambUng, with murder and 
lynch law a secondary pastime. Not being 
deterred by our experience, we continued 
our sightseeing, ending up at the only theatre 
in the city, afterwards called the ''Old 
Languish." 

JOINING THE CATTLE TRAIN AGAIN 

The following afternoon our train reached 
town and we joined it during the evening 
to be ready for an early start for Golden 
City, the entrance to the mountains lead- 
ing to Black Hawk and Central City where 
our freight was consigned. The most hazard- 
ous part of our trip was before us, one that 
to this day makes me shiver when I think of 
it. The first team entered the canyon at 
1 1 A. M. in a blinding snowstorm. The road 
for nearly the entire distance was hewn 
from solid rock out of the side of steep 
mountains, gradually ascending to a great 
height, then descending to what seemed a 
bottomless canyon. We finally arrived at 
Guy Hill, the most dangerous part of the 



74 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

route. It took us one entire day to reach 
its pinnacle, where we camped for the night. 
The road at the top was cut through soHd 
rock at a height of twenty feet, seven feet 
in width and led to a steep precipice. It 
then made a sharp turn to the right and, in 
a serpent shape drive, continued to the 
canyon below. At this point it was said to 
be fifteen hundred feet straight down, and 
a nimiber of outfits had previously gone over 
its rocky edge and been hurled to destruc- 
tion by a slight error of judgment on the 
part of the driver. 

The cold and snow, together with summer 
clothing, made our suffering indescribable. 
The following morning I started in the lead 
of the train with a nine thousand pound 
boiler, with the rear wheels securely locked, 
and twenty yoke of oxen to haul it to the 
edge of the precipice. Then discarding all 
but the wheelers and leaders, we began 
the descent. There was not room enough 
on either side for the driver to walk. He 
generally rode the off ox, but I took my 
position on the rear of the wagon tongue 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 75 

and found it decidedly the safest place in 
case of an accident. By night all wagons 
were safely in the canyon below. The road 
for nearly the entire distance presented the 
same dangers, taking ten days to reach our 
destination from Denver, the entire trip 
occupying eighty days. 

A THRILLING COACH RIDE 

On receiving our pay, which was our 
promised salary less twenty dollars for the 
Hostetter's Bitters, my chimi and myself 
decided to go direct to Denver, our friend 
remaining in the Mountain City. We board- 
ed a Concord coach with six snow-white 
horses to wheel us on a dead run over and 
around steep mountains and through dismal 
canyons, first on four wheels, then three, 
then two and occasionally one, keeping 
us constantly busy retaining our seats and 
fearing at every turn that we would be dashed 
into eternity; and yet, it was one of the most 
picturesque and thrilHng rides one could 
take. Being tossed from side to side in the 
roomy coach, now and then grabbing a 



76 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

fellow passenger with desperation, gazing 
down from lofty peaks to yawning chasms 
below, hearing the crack of the long-lashed 
whip urging the noble steeds to faster speed, 
turning the rough, ragged, serpent-shaped 
drive, thundering through clouds and mist 
with lightning rapidity, and always in con- 
stant terror of a breakdown or error on the 
part of the fearless driver, gave one a sensa- 
tion that would nearly make his hair stand 
on end. During the descent a slight error 
on the part of the horses or driver, would 
have hurled all to a horrible death; but 
those mountain drivers, strapped to their 
seats, were monarchs of the Rockies and 
unerring in every move. From among the 
snow-covered glaciers sparkling in the morn- 
ing sun, emitting the many tints of a mid- 
day storm-bow and presenting a sight of 
unsurpassed grandeur, we emerged from the 
mouth of the last canyon and struck the 
smooth rolling trail. All the way from Golden 
we were going, it seemed, on the wings of 
the wind and were landed in Denver on 
scheduled time. 




CHAPTER IV 

DENVER IN 1865 

N THAT period Denver was appro- 
priately called the ''City of the 
Plains." Situated sixteen miles 
from the base of the nearest 
Rocky Mountain peak, and six 
hundred and fifty miles from Atchi- 
son, Kansas, the nearest town to the 
East ; while seven hundred miles to the west 
loomed up as from the very bowels of the 
earth, the beautiful city of the Mormons, 
Salt Lake City, Utah. The nearest forts — 
two hundred miles distant — were Fort 
Cottonwood to the northeast, Collins to 
the north and Halleck to the northwest. 
Its northern limits extended to the South 
fork of the Platte River; Cherry Creek 
running through one-third, dividing it into 
East and West Denver. Its population num- 
bered about five thousand souls. Here was 
to be found the illiterate man — but a grade 



78 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

above the coyote — lawbreakers of every kind 
and from every land, to men of culture and 
refinement. Here it stood, a typical mining 
town, a monument to the indomitable energy 
of man in his efforts to settle that barren and 
almost endless plain and open to the world 
the Rocky's unlimited hidden gold. Here 
were brick structures modern for that day, 
the brick being made from the soil of the 
territory; a United States mint, a church, a 
school house, large warehouses, stores, and 
the home of the Rocky Mountain Daily News, 
which kept one partially in touch with hap- 
penings in the faraway states. Isolated from 
the outside world, it was an ideal place of 
refuge for those anxious to escape the out- 
raged law. Knights of the green cloth held 
full sway. Men in every walk in life gambled. 
A dead man for breakfast was not an un- 
common heading for the menu card, the old 
tree on the west bank of Cherry Creek 
furnishing the man. Society was just a 
little exclusive and to gain admission the 
pass was, ''Where are you from?" and in 
some cases, ''Your name in the East." 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 79 

Desperadoes made one attempt to lay the 
city in ashes and certainly would have 
accomplivshed their purpose had it not been 
for the timely action of the Vigilance Com- 
mittee in hanging the ring-leaders. When 
the guilt of a suspect for any crime was 
in doubt, he was presented with a horse or 
mule and ordered to leave between sun and 
sun and never return. During my four years 
of residence in Denver there was but one 
Indian scare and it made a lasting impression 
on the tablet of my memory. A church bell 
pealed forth the warning over the thirsty 
desert of an Indian attack. Business places 
were closed, the women and children were 
rushed to the mint and warehouses for 
protection, armed men surrounded the city, 
pickets on horseback were thrown out in 
every direction. Couriers kept thundering 
back and forth between picket line and those 
in command and others were despatched 
to the different Forts for assistance that 
never came. A look of determination stood 
out on the face of every one and not a man, 
from clergyman to desperado, within the 



80 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

confines of the city who would not willingly 
have given up his life's blood to protect the 
honor of the women and lives of the little 
ones. For three weary days and the same 
number of nights the terrible suspense lasted, 
but no Indian came. It was a false alarm. 
Denver, in its early settlement, was never 
attacked by the Indians except in isolated 
cases. The only reason that I ever heard 
given for their not doing so was that they 
knew not their strength, for there was no 
time in the sixties that they could not have 
swooped down on the place, massacred all 
and buried the little mining town in ashes. 

SECURED WORK AGAIN 

For a young man to obtain work other 
than oxen or mule driving, we were told, 
was simply impossible. Not being deterred, 
however, by this discouraging information 
we at once started out to secure work. 
Board was twenty-five dollars a week in 
gold, and you had to furnish your own sleep- 
ing quarters, so not to secure work at once 
would quickly reduce our wealth. We had 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 8i 

called on nearly all of the business places, 
when my chum secured a position with a 
grocer and freighter. As for myself, I re- 
ceived little encouragement but finally called 
at a large restaurant where I was offered 
work. I told the proprietor it was a little 
out of my line, but he told me that if I could 
not find a position to suit me, I should walk 
in at any time, pull off my coat and go to 
work, which I did three days later. About 
the tenth day the proprietor told me his 
lease expired and that the man who owned 
the building was going to conduct the busi- 
ness. He came in that afternoon, and I 
was introduced to him. Before leaving he 
stepped into the office and informed me 
that he wanted a man next to him; or, in 
other words, an assistant and that the 
former proprietor had given me a good 
recommend and he thought that I would 
suit him. He made me a tempting offer and 
I accepted. The restaurant was located on 
Blake street, one of the then principal busi- 
ness streets of the city, and kept open until 
early morning as did the gambling places 



82 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

in the immediate vicinity. I soon discovered 
that the new proprietor could neither read 
or write and that he conducted one of the 
largest private club rooms in the city where 
gambling was carried on without limit. He 
paid me a large salary and allowed me every- 
thing my wild nature craved. I had charge 
of the entire business as well as his bank 
account. 

The restaurant was the headquarters of 
nearly all oxen and mule drivers and also 
of the miners who came from the mountains 
in winter, and were of the toughest type of 
men of that day. All professional oxen 
and mule drivers after making one round 
trip to the river and points in the far Western 
territories were paid off in Denver and many 
of them would deposit with me, for safe 
keeping, a large share of their dangerously 
and hard earned dollars. They would then 
start out to do the town, now and then 
taking a chance at. one of the many gambling 
games, always returning for more money, 
which I would give them; and this they 
would continue until all was expended ex- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 83 

cept enough to keep them a week, when sober, 
and a commission for doing the business, 
for which I was careful to look out. An 
individual who bore the name of "One Eye 
Jack" boarded with us and I could always 
depend upon him in time of trouble. His 
vocation for a long time was a mystery, 
until one evening, as I was passing down a 
side street, he popped out from an alley 
and with uplifted blackjack would have 
felled and robbed me had he not recognized 
the unearthly yell I gave. I forgave him, 
and afterwards he doubled his energies to 
protect me and on more than one occasion 
saved my life. When in his professional 
clothes he was a tough looking customer 
and could fight like a bull dog. He was 
always liberally supplied with someone else's 
money. Yet with all his bad traits, his 
word was as good as his gold; but Hke 
other similar individuals that infested Denver 
at that time, he finally went to the end of 
his tether, and was presented by the Vigilance 
Committee with a hemp collar that deprived 
him of his life. 



84 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

Before his demise, however, a party of 
ten tough-looking individuals entered the 
restaurant and, in forceful language, de- 
manded the best the country offered in 
eatables and drink. My friend, or would- 
be-murderer, was in at the time and I noticed 
a look of cunning pleasure steal over his 
rough countenance. The strangers were dres- 
sed in corduroy trousers, velveteen coats, 
slouch hats and black ties. Their shirts 
and collars of red flannel made a conspicuous 
appearance and caused their undoing later. 
After seeing them well cared for, I returned 
to the office and calling Jack inquired his 
opinion of the gents. 

"Well," he replied, 'T may be mistaken 
but I will just bet you a ten spot they 
are road agents." ''Yes," I said, 'T am 
inclined to agree with you, but keep 
mum." 

You may think it strange I did not give 
this bold highwayman away; but life in 
those days was sweet and I had no desire 
to have that young life taken so I followed 
Commanche Bill's advice and strictly minded 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 85 

my own business. If I had not, I would 
not be living today. 

HIGHWAYMEN OF THE WEST 

Two mornings later on entering for break- 
fast one of the band had his head done up 
in a bandage. From words he dropped 
I was satisfied that Jack or one of his cronies 
had been improving their spare time by 
relieving him of his over abundance of gold. 
The reckless manner in which they dis- 
posed of their money and their conversa- 
tion when flushed with wine betrayed their 
true characters and stamped them a murder- 
ous band of mountain highwaymen who 
had made their headquarters in the fast- 
nesses of the Rockies, near the overland 
mountain trail and there devoted their time 
to holding up stage coaches, compelling 
the driver with a shot from a carbine to 
halt, descend, disarm and be quiet. The 
passengers were then ordered to alight and 
stand in a row, continually being covered 
with guns by a part of the band and by 
others relieved of their personal effects. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 87 

Then the stage coach was systematically 
gone through together with the Wells Fargo 
& Go's, safe, which often contained gold 
into the thousands. These hold-ups were 
not infrequent and were the fear of all who 
were obliged to pass through these canyons 
of robbery and often death. The bunch 
that we harbored were undoubtedly as bold 
a band of robbers and murderers as ever 
infested the silent caves of the Rockies. 
Could their dingy walls but talk they would 
reveal crimes unspeakable. I knew there 
were many strangers in town and was almost 
certain their every movement was watched ; 
nor was I mistaken. The seventh day after 
their arrival a young school teacher whom 
I knew by sight called at the restaurant 
and inquired by name for one of the band. 
I asked if he knew him. He replied, no 
more than that he had met him in one of 
the corrals of the city and had been offered 
free passage to the States if he would do 
their cooking. I told him of my suspicions 
and all I knew about them and advised 
him not to go with them, but like many 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 89 

others he gave no heed. Two days later 
they were missed at meal time. The next 
morning word came by courier that the 
entire band including the school teacher 
were dangling by the neck from the branches 
of Cottonwood trees twelve miles down the 
Platte River with their pockets inside-out 
and outfits gone. Thus was meted out 
innocent and guilty alike the Vigilance Com- 
mittee justice, which was not of uncommon 
occurrence. 

Mr. Pembroke secured a position at Black 
Hawk, Colorado, in the year 1865, with the 
first smelter works erected in the Rocky 
Mountains. He was employed in the separat- 
ing department where sulphur was freely 
used, and he inhaled much of the fimies 
emitted therefrom, which was the direct 
cause of a severe illness. 

He fought retirement for a long time, 
but was finally forced to give up. 

The latter part of February, 1886, he 
arrived in Denver on his way to his home 
in Geneva, N. Y., but remained with me 
at the restaurant for ten days where he 



90 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

was cared for and given the best of medical 
aid available in those days. 

He finally prevailed on a mule freighter 
to take him as a passenger to Atchison, 
Kansas. Arriving at Fort Carney, Nebraska, 
he had a relapse and was ordered by the 
Commander of the Fort to be placed in the 
Army Hospital for treatment, where he 
remained until able to continue his journey 
by stage to Atchison, thence by rail 
home. 

He left Colorado with the full determina- 
tion of returning on recovering his health. 
A mother's influence, however, changed his 
plans and he finally decided to remain in 
the East. He purchased a grocery business 
and conducted it with great success until 
his death, March 17th, 19 10. By his strict 
attention to business, square dealing, genial 
disposition and original wit, he gained the 
confidence and respect of his fellow-men. 
He was buried in St. Patrick's cemetery in 
his home city where a surviving sister has 
caused to be erected an appropriate and 
costly monument to his memory. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 91 

NEW EMPLOYMENT 

I remained with the restaurant keeper one 
year, when through the assistance of influen- 
tial men that boarded at the restaurant, 
I secured a position with a grocer. Shortly 
after entering his employ I made the ac- 
quaintance of an ex-army officer, a graduate 
of West Point and a well educated man, 
who afterwards became my boon companion. 
At that time he was an ex-pork merchant 
from Cincinnati; an eccentric old fellow 
without chick or child, and with plenty 
of money to loan at 3% a month. He owned 
a large warehouse on Cherry Creek in West 
Denver where he slept and did his own 
cooking. His evenings were passed at the 
store and many were the nights that we told 
stories and otherwise enjoyed ourselves. He 
was a silent member of the firm and I was 
wise enough to keep on the right side of him. 
During that time the head of the firm ran 
for Congress on the Democratic ticket. Such 
an election I never want to see or go through 
again. Large wagons loaded with barrels 
of all kinds of liquor on tap were driven from 



92 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

poll to poll. Many more ballots were cast in 
each precinct than there were voters and 
by night nearly the entire male portion of the 
inhabitants were a drunken, howling mass. 
The outcome of the election resulted in the 
Governor giving the Democratic nominee the 
certificate of election; the Secretary of the 
territory favoring the Republicans. The 
Governor left the city that night and never 
returned. The contest terminated in a Re- 
publican Congress seating the Republican 
candidate, and Andrew Johnson — then Presi- 
dent of the United States — appointing the 
Democratic candidate Governor of Colorado. 
A year from that time General Grant was 
inaugurated, and shortly afterwards the Gov- 
ernor's head went into the basket and mine 
fell on the outside. 

On another occasion there was to be a 
prize fight at Golden City, sixteen miles 
from Denver. My friend, the ex-pork mer- 
chant, I could see was anxious to attend 
but did not wish to low^er his standard of 
dignity by doing so, so the subject was not 
mentioned save in a casual way until the 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 93 

morning of the fight, when he entered the 
store, puffing and blowing, stamping the 
floor with his hickory cane and mopping 
his crimson brow with an old-fashioned 
bandana handkerchief, said ''Charley, let's 
go to that infernal fight. I don't approve 
of it, but let's go." 

''All right," I said. I was in for any 
kind of sport. 

AN EXPERIENCE IN MULE RIDING 

I left everything, locked the store and 
started out to procure a rig, but found 
there were none to be had for love or money. 
The only article of propulsion we could hire 
were saddle mules. Both quickly mounted 
and on a slow trot started for the ring. We 
had been there less than an hour when both 
of us became thoroughly disgusted and started 
on the return trip. When about seven miles 
from Denver and going at a lively pace — 
for a mule — the Major's animal stiffened 
both front legs, and placing his hoofs firmly 
in the sandy road, permitted the Major's 
chunky little body to pass over his head 
and through space for about ten feet, land- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 95 

ing, with much force, on his stomach. The 
old fellow was an artist at curse words and 
the more I laughed the more he cursed. 
He was a sprightly little fellow and on gain- 
ing his feet grabbed for the bridle, but 
Mr. Mule shook his head, made a side step, 
and the devil could not have caught him 
again until he reached the barn. I dis- 
mounted and with much difficulty my friend 
scrambled into my saddle, with myself on 
behind. But my long-eared critter objected 
and the fun commenced. He bunted and 
kicked. All of a sudden his hind quarters 
rose and Hke lightning his long lanky legs 
shot high into the air. First, I went off, 
and on gaining a sitting position with mouth,' 
ears and eyes full of sand, I witnessed a 
spectacle befitting the clumsiest bareback 
rider on one of their first lessons. The 
old Major had both arms affectionately 
entwined around the mule's thick neck and 
was hanging on with desperation. Up and 
down went the hind quarters of that unkind 
brute, bunting and kicking, the Major's 
little body keeping taps with the ups and 



96 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

downs and every time he caught his breath 
he let out a war whoop that would do credit 
to a Commanche brave. The old mule 
finally dumped him all in a heap and followed 
his mate to Denver. Such an appearance 
as both presented, each blaming the other 
for our misfortune and vowing we would 
never be caught at another prize fight. 
Lame, bruised, and crestfallen, we walked 
the remainder of the way into Denver. 
Each cautioned the other to say nothing 
of our misfortune ; but the two Mauds had car- 
ried the news ahead, and we were the laugh- 
ing stock of the town for the next nine days. 
At another time I was attending a per- 
formance in the ''Old Languish Theater,'* 
when from the stage I was informed I was 
wanted in the bar room of the building, 
a necessary adjunct to all western theaters 
in those days. Upon entering I was taken 
by the hand by one of those trusty and 
warm-hearted stage drivers of the plains 
and Rockies, and told that my chtim had been 
caught in one of those treacherous mountain 
snow storms on the Catchla Purder River 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 97 

two miles above La Port and was badly 
frozen, and, if he didn't receive medical aid 
at once, cotild not survive. I left the theater 
at once and commenced preparing plans for 
the trip. I started unaccompanied the fol- 
lowing afternoon at 2:30 o'clock on a one 
hundred fifty mile ride. 

A RIDE IN A STORM 

My conveyance was a long old-fashioned 
buggy. The buggy, which was well filled 
with straw, blankets, medicine, grub, and 
a commissary bottle, had two good road- 
sters hitched in front to wheel me to the 
rescue of my friend or to an ignominious 
death. I had not only Indians to fear, but 
the treacherous elements. The trail ran 
close along the base of the mountains. It 
was a lovely May day. I was obliged 
to make thirty-two miles that night to 
reach cover. Less than half of the distance 
had been traveled when the wind veered 
suddenly to the north, mild at first, then a 
hurricane of anger, roaring and blowing 
with such force as to nearly upset the buggy. 



98 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

Dark clouds gathered and floated around 
those silent peaks of ages. Lightning darted 
hither and thither among the stalwart pines, 
which were creaking, bending and crashing. 
Clap after clap of thunder pealed through 
and from those dismal canyons, vibrating 
between Nature's slopes of granite, quartz 
and rock. The din was fearful, rain fell 
at first, then turned to snow. Just before 
it became dark I adjusted the front piece 
of the buggy. My compass was useless. 
I urged my faithful steeds to faster speed, 
and at the same time gave them the rein. 
As I did so, they left the trail. Cold and 
chilled to the marrow or very bone, I took 
frequent drafts from the commissary bottle, 
and fought with all my power against sleep, 
but it was useless. 

On gaining partial consciousness two squaws 
were bending over me rubbing me with all 
their Indian strength and a third forcing 
something warm down my throat. Men, 
rough of dress, were smoking and playing 
cards. Revolvers, chips and gold was in front 
of each, with plenty of the latter in the 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 99 

center of the table. I knew not if they 
were friends or mountain highwaymen. 
Many claim that horses are dumb brutes 
with no instinct, but that faithful pair on 
leaving the trail avoided a long bend and 
made straight for the adobe stage ranch, 
sixteen miles away. On reaching it, they 
ran the buggy-pole through the only opening 
of that mud shack rousing the inmates to 
action and bringing me to safety. 

The large Concord coach filled with pas- 
sengers soon arrived from Denver, and owing 
to the severity of the storm, put up for the 
night. The time was passed in smoking, 
drinking and playing cards. At six o'clock 
the next morning the coach pulled up at 
the door. The storm was over, but not 
the wind. The cold was intense. My team 
soon came up, but their ears and noses were 
badly frost bitten and otherwise showed 
the effects of the storm. I followed the 
coach but for a short distance only, as the 
snow which was drifting badly obliterated 
the trail. The six black horses on the 
coach were too much for my two bays and 



100 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

soon left me far in the rear. My compass 
had been lost and by noon I was back at the 
ranch I had previously left, the horses 
having made nearly a complete circle with- 
out my knowledge. I secured another com- 
pass and at nine o'clock that evening rolled 
into La Port, a city of adobe ranches, and 
stage station, where I put up for the night. 
(A place of two or three houses in those days 
was called a city.) I was informed that 
my chum was two miles up the river and 
in bad shape. The next morning I was up 
at day break. After grub I started and 
found my companion quartered in a little 
old log cabin at the base of the mountains, 
and being cared for by an aged squaw and 
her daughter — the old buck being out caring 
for the cattle. My chimi had encountered 
the same kind of a storm as his rescuer, 
and unable to find his way was obliged to 
remain out the entire night and only one 
hundred feet from the cabin. Both of his 
feet were badly frozen. The Indians had 
done everything possible for him. The 
daughter, for an Indian, was extremely 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL loi 

pretty, and I soon discovered that she was 
very much taken with my chum. I applied 
the remedies which I had brought. Then 
the Httle Indian maiden bundled him up, 
and with the promise that he would return 
they parted. 

We were at once off on the return trip and 
arrived at the stage ranch, where I was 
cared for the previous night at just six 
o'clock. On driving up to the door of the 
station all three of the reaches of the buggy 
broke and gently dropped us to the ground. 
Fortunately there was a blacksmith con- 
nected with the station and I assisted him 
through the long night, forging reaches and 
repairing the buggy. At daylight we were 
off, reaching Denver in safety at 3:30 that 
afternoon and making the trip in just three 
days. 

Both of my chum's feet had to be ampu- 
tated at the insteps. He was very grateful 
and quite conscious of the fact J^that true 
friendship still existed. 

Before leaving the governor's employ, I 
accompanied a mule train of ten wagons 



102 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

with supplies for the Ute tribe of Indians 
who lived in one of the parks of the mountains 
in the vicinity of Pike's Peak. The Utes, 
at that particular time, were on friendly 
terms with the white men as there was a 
treaty of peace existing between them and 
the Government. 




CHAPTER V 
A PROOF OF MARKSMANSHIP 

E TOOK with us a Mr. Baker, 
who was conceded to be one 
of the best guides, hunters, 
trappers and interpreters of 
that day, with a heart as 
large as an American bison, 
and as tender as a child's. But when his anger 
was aroused by danger or treachery, the 
very devil seemed to possess him; he had 
the courage of a lion, and was a dead shot. 
We had been friends for a long time, and 
on more than one occasion he had proved 
a true one. 

The park was an ideal summer resort, 
an extended plateau with acres of fresh 
green grass, wild flowers, and virgin soil. 
In the center was a beautiful lake, its ice 
cold water well stocked with the finny tribe 
of speckled mountain trout, the delight of 
the angler. The park was inclosed by moun- 
tains of great height and grandeur, their 



104 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

rocky slopes were dotted with spruce, pine, 
and Cottonwood, and capped with ages of 
crystal snow, presenting a sight more pleas- 
ing to the eye than the Falls of Niagara, 
and a perfect haven for an Indian maiden's 
love dream. 

We had been in camp but a few days when 
Mr. Baker informed me that the young 
bucks, as the men of the tribe were called, 
wanted us to join in shooting at a target. 
After Mr. Baker and myself had made a 
few bull's eyes, they proposed we two should 
choose sides, and we did so. The teams 
were very evenly matched, making the game 
interesting. In the meantime, I had been 
presented to the chief in true Indian fashion 
and in turn was made known by him to his 
squaw, young bucks and maidens. The In- 
dians had ther tribal laws and customs as 
well as the white man and were required 
to live up to them. The maidens were 
two in number, their ages fourteen and 
seventeen moons respectively; the latter a 
picture of Indian beauty, perfect in every 
feature, form and carriage, a rare model 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 105 

for an artist. They were nearly always 
found together. At first they were quite 
reserved, but finally we became fast friends; 
we would ramble, hunt, fish from canoes 
and sail the placid waters of the little 
lake. 

Early on the morning of the tenth day 
Mr. Baker entered my tent with a troubled 
look. I bade him good-morning and in- 
quired the cause. Without fencing, he asked 
me if I wanted to be a squaw man. I asked 
him what the devil he was getting at. 

AN OFFER OF MATRIMONY 

He repHed, ''All there is to it, the old 
chief has taken a great liking to you, and 
wants you to marry Weenouah, his oldest 
daughter. He has plenty of money, and 
his horses and cattle run into four figures." 

"That is no inducement," I said, ''and 
it could never be." 

Mr. Baker asked, "How are you going to 
get out of it?" 

I replied, "I have been in lots of tight 
places, as you know, and have always 



io6 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

managed to squeeze through, and I'll get 
out of this one in some way. 

Little did either of us dream at that time 
of the manner, or rather the sacrifice, that 
one of us was doomed to bear, for me to 
escape the wrath of the old chief, when 
informed I would not marry his daughter. 
Fate decreed he was never to be so in- 
formed, but instead, a most cruel and 
unfortunate accident was to provide the 
means. 

That afternoon the young bucks were 
again anxious to test their skill at the target. 
We all used the same carbine, which con- 
tained seven cartridges, one in the gun bar- 
rel and six in a magazine in the butt of the 
gun. Mr. Baker and I always tossed up 
a pebble to see who had first shot. As 
Mr. Baker won the first chance, he took 
aim and pulled the trigger and such an 
explosion as took place will never be for- 
gotten. Everyone was stunned by its force. 
When the smoke had cleared, poor Baker's 
body was found lying on the ground with 
the lower jaw torn from its place. On 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 107 

recovering from the shock the young bucks 
fairly flew for the Indian medicine man. 
I quickly reached the corral and informed 
the wagon boss of the accident. He at 
once ordered the mules brought up. The 
light wagon was supplied with straw, blankets, 
commissary bottle and grub. Six of the 
fastest mules were hitched to the wagon 
and selecting two of the mulewhackers gave 
instruction for his care en route. I took 
the lines and quickly drove to the spot 
where poor Baker had fallen. Just as soon 
as the flow of blood had been checked and 
his wounds dressed we raised him gently 
and placed him in the wagon. Without a 
word I mounted the driver's box and drove 
for all there was in those six mules, reaching 
Denver late the following night. Some who 
read this narrative may be skeptical, but 
it is a fact, nevertheless, that poor Baker 
recovered for I saw him a year later, but 
he could partake of liquid food only. The 
once stalwart form of that brave man, now 
emaciated and wasted to a mere skeleton, 
still stood erect. 



io8 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 
THE TOLL OF THE PLAINS 

My whole heart went out to him who, in 
years past, had hunted the antelope, deer, 
elk and buffalo ; fought the cowardly savages 
and desperadoes on the thirsty plains and 
amidst the ragged slopes of the Rocky 
Mountains; penetrated the silent recesses 
of the dismal canyons and caves; crossed 
the snow covered divides; faced danger of 
every conceivable nature; and at last, al- 
though maimed for life, was grateful that 
he had escaped death and thankful in the 
thought that he had done his share in the 
settlement of the then Far West. As I gazed 
into his once keen eyes and beheld that shrivel- 
ed face, my heart wrung with remorse, for I 
knew he had keenly suffered. Tears filled 
my eyes and trickled down my weather- 
beaten and sun-tanned boyish face, and I 
knew he accepted it as an emblem of my 
sorrow for being the innocent cause, in a 
measure, of his cruel misfortune. Thus, by 
the flip of a pebble was my life spared, but 
at the expense of a true friend. 




CHAPTER VI 
ON TO LEAVENWORTH 

HE NEXT summer I was not very 
well, and so I made a trip to 
Leavenworth, Kansas, by the 

Southern or Smoky Hill route. 

We made the trip by mule train of 
twenty wagons with six mules hitched to 
each. The driver rode the nigh mule 
and with one line guided the team. If he 
wanted the leaders to go to the right 
he simply jerked fast or slow, depend- 
ing on how quick he wanted to make 
the turn; if to the left, a steady or quick pull. 
The Indians on this trail were more ntimerous 
than on the Platte and scarcely a day passed 
that they were not to be seen, and continually 
trying to drive off our stock. We did not 
receive any great scare until we reached the 
Big Blue River where on the fourth day of 
July at ten o'clock in the morning a large 
Concord coach filled with passengers and a 
small guard of the United States soldiers, 



no DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

which had previously passed us, were await- 
ing our arrival before daring to proceed. 
On reaching the crest of the bluff leading 
to the valley of the river we saw hundreds 
of Sioux Indians, in war paint and feathers, 
camped on the opposite side in the under- 
brush and woods, and in the main trail 
directly in our path. 

We at once went into corral. Thirty 
men against a horde of savages, if they were 
there to dispute our right of progress, was 
not a pleasant position to be placed in nor 
a fitting manner in which to celebrate the 
glorious Fourth. Consultations were numer- 
ous and all took part. The redskins, camped 
in plain sight, were hurrying to and fro, 
evidently in council like ourselves. To the 
right of the trail was a dense wood close 
to the river bank; on the left was a high 
perpendicular bluff, its sides unscalable, so 
our route was a genuine death trap, should 
they attack us. After grub all gathered 
in a circle and with pipes we proceeded 
with our last council. The situation was 
talked over from every point as to what the 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL in 

Indians might do or might not do. We 
finally arrived to the conclusion that they 
had the best of us whatever move we made. 
A majority vote decided to proceed with 
every man for himself in case of attack. 
Our wagons were empty which was a little 
in our favor as we could go on a mule trot 
or gallop. The coach filled with passengers 
was placed in the lead; and, being the young- 
est of the party, they were considerate 
enough to let me follow, and I did so as 
closely as possible. On reaching the river 
bottom, the driver of the coach started his 
horses on a run and the lash was put to every 
mule. We were all yelling like demons 
and on our approach the Indians left the 
trail and took to the river, thinking that we 
were a hundred or more strong. All passed 
safely through that valley of what might 
have been a horrible massacre. The un- 
earthly racket we made was undoubtedly 
our salvation, but we were not out of danger 
by any means and continued our flight 
luitil eleven p. m. when we went into corral 
for food and rest. At three a. m. we again 



112 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

struck the trail and it is well that we did, 
for those blood-thirsty redskins laid death 
and destruction in their wake and came 
very near overtaking us a day later. Arriv- 
ing at Leavenworth, I boarded a Missouri 
River palace for St. Louis, thence to New 
Orleans. 

A FALSE FRIEND 

On returning to St. Louis, I met 
a Westerner that I knew only by sight, and 
by him was induced to remain over a few 
days and take in the city. I did and was 
scooped. On the third morning I went 
through my pockets and the bed, piece 
by piece, dumping its contents in the center 
of the room, but my roll was gone. At once 
I sought my friend, but he was nowhere to 
be found. Plain case of misplaced confidence. 
He had made a touch. In my desperation, 
I made a confident of the caretaker of the 
hotel register. Being of a sympathetic na- 
ture, he consoled me with an invitation 
to stimulate, which I did. Being without 
a trunk, I was informed on my arrival it 
was customary to pay as you enter; fortu- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 113 

nately I had a meal to my credit. I was 
in good condition, having had sufficient 
victuals to last the day, after which I proceed- 
ed to the river front and here discovered a 
boat bound for Omaha. I boarded her, sought 
out the steward, and applied for a position. 
He replied that he did not want any help. 

''Well, I suppose you will let a fellow work 
his way, won't you?" 

His answer was ''Get off this craft," and 
without further talk, in not a very gentle- 
manly manner he assisted me. 

On landing, I was mad clear through, 
and made up my mind I was going on that 
boat, and I did go. Just before the gang 
plank was pulled in I walked on board, 
keeping a sharp lookout for the steward. 
After I had avoided him for an hour and just 
as I was on the point of congratulating my- 
self, I bumped into him. 

"You on board?" 

"It looks very much as if I were in evi- 
dence." 

He grabbed me by the coat collar and 
hustled me before the captain. I told a 



114 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

straight story, and he, being a man, told the 
steward to take me up to the kitchen and set 
me to work. He did, and had his revenge 
in seeing that it was nearly continuous. 
After supper I worked the dish racket until 
twelve o'clock. At three the next morning 
he awoke me out of a sound sleep and set 
me to cleaning the woodwork of the cabin. 
Another of my desirable duties was to wash 
and polish the silver, throwing the water 
over the sides of the boat. 

AN ALERT STEWARD 

After dinner of the second day I proceeded 
with the tin bucket to the side of the boat 
and overboard went its contents, including 
three silver spoons. The spoons had no 
sooner left the bucket than I felt something 
of great force come in contact with the seat 
of my trousers. For a moment I thought 
surely perpetual motion had been discovered. 
Turning I was face to face with that infernal 
steward. Nor did that end my troubles 
for during the entire trip that particular 
locality of my person was the target for that 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 115 

fellow's boot. With a terrible oath, he 
informed me that my landing would be 
reached about midnight a day later and was 
called Wood Pile Landing. A short time 
before reaching the place, I was hustled 
from my bunk by the steward and in no 
gentle manner forced to the bow of the 
boat. The night was pitch dark, and pro- 
duced a decidedly lonesome feeling in the 
one thkt was to be put off at a Wood Pile 
on the edge of an immense forest and un- 
doubtedly miles from a dwelling. As the 
boat reached the bank, not even waiting for 
the gang plank to be shoved out, the old 
sinner gave me a push and at the same time 
applied the now familiar boot. I reached 
the earth on all fours. My first thought 
was to present him with a rock, but I curbed 
my temper, for I had no idea of deserting 
the old ship. 

In those days the boilers of the boats 
were fired with cord wood purchased of the 
planters and delivered on the bank of the 
river. All boats plying on the Missouri 
River at that time were flat bottom with 



ii6 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

paddle wheel at the stern. Two long heavy 
poles were carried at the bow and worked 
with a windlass, being used to raise the bow 
of the boat when becoming fast on a sand 
bar. The pilot was obliged to keep a con- 
tinuous lookout for these bars, as the chan- 
nel was treacherous and changed often. 

On approaching the river bank one of the 
deck hands would jump off with the bow 
line and make fast to a stump or tree, then 
the stern line was thrown to him and similarly 
connected. Then the negro deck hands would 
proceed to carry on the wood on their bare 
shoulders to the tune of a Southern planta- 
tion melody. When ready to start the bow 
line was cast off, the paddle wheel was started 
by the engine, and by means of the steering 
gear the craft was swung out into the stream, 
then the stern line was thrown aship, and 
the boat was off — but not without the 
steward's victim. No sooner had the colored 
gentlemen reached the deck, than I followed. 
Waiting until all was quiet aboard, I sought 
my berth. The next morning I proceeded 
with my work as if nothing had happened. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 117 

I anticipated the steward's next move would 
be to throw me overboard, and in that 
beHef told the cook of what he had done the 
previous night. At that point he came in, 
and on discovering me said, ''You here again," 
his face purple with rage. His right foot 
at once became restless, he made a rush for 
me, but the cook with butcher-knife in hand 
prevented the action of said foot, and my 
troubles with that gentleman were over. 

ARRIVAL AT LEAVENWORTH 

We soon reached Leavenworth, and I 
left the boat without regret, but a much 
wiser youth. I went to the First National 
Bank of Leavenworth, drew my money, and 
after a few days' rest, I again embarked for 
Denver astride a mule. We saw plenty 
of Indians, but as the train was a long one 
they did not molest us. 

On reaching the city of the plains I at 
once hunted up my old friend, the Major, 
who introduced me to the head of a firm of 
contractors, who were at that time engaged 
in getting out ties in the ''Black Hills," for 



Ii8 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

a portion of the Union Pacific railroad, 
then under construction. He told me that 
he wanted a man to go there and straighten 
out a set of books that a former employee 
had left badly mixed. He also took the 
trouble to inform me that the country was 
alive with Indians, and that the man who 
went there took big chances; and, if I were 
at all timid, I had better not accept the 
position. My friend gave me a strong recom- 
mend and I clinched the matter by telling 
the gentleman that I was not afraid of man, 
ghost or Indian. He replied that I was just 
the man he was in search of, and would give 
me five hundred dollars in gold, a good horse 
and pay all expenses; that I should get my 
traps and be at the Planter's Hotel for dinner. 
He expected his two partners from the east 
to inspect the camp and business, and every- 
thing was to be in readiness to depart on 
their arrival. Our conveyance was a full 
sized Concord coach with six good mules 
to draw it. The boot of the coach contained 
the best of everything to eat and drink — 
the latter being just as essential in that 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL u^ 

country as gun and ammunition. The part- 
ners were detained en route, and did not 
arrive until the second day, when they wished 
to rest and see the western sights, so we did 
not leave until the fourth day. Two Denver- 
ites accompanied us, making six in the party. 
The first afternoon we made thirty-two 
miles, and camped near a stage station, 
where they keep, for the weary pilgrims, 
supplies and the rankest kind of corn juice 
known to the professional drinker. 

The following morning we made an early 
start, and before noon rolled into La Port, 
on the Cachella Pondre River, the only 
settlement on the trail to the hills. We put 
up at the stage station for the night. There 
we met a drover, and a party of cow boys 
with one thousand head of California bron- 
chos bound for the States. Those cowboys 
were as wild as western life could make them, 
yet, a jolly good lot. 

During the evening, at the suggestion of 
someone, a poker game was started which 
lasted all night, and in the morning those 
who had indulged in the game were not feel- 



120 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

ing any too good — especially the losers — 
but, nevertheless, they all strolled over to 
the large adobe corral to see our party off. 
Mr. A — , the head of the firm of contractors, 
had his large winnings safely concealed in 
a chamois bag placed close to his hide, where 
all wise men of the West carried their money 
in those days. 

The drover had been a heavy but good 
loser. When about ready to hitch up our 
mules he called out to Mr. A — , 'I'll go you 
six of my best bronchos against five hundred 
dollars that you haven't a man in your outfit 
that can drive the d — d brutes a mile and 
return." 

The contractor approached me and asked 
if I thought I could do it. I told him that 
I was willing to take the chance. 

Without another word he walked over 
to where the drover was standing and in- 
formed him that he would take the bet, 
provided he would have his cowpunchers 
hitch the little devils to the coach. 

"Agreed," shouted the old fellow in no 
uncertain language. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 121 

The boys turned to the work with a will; 
for the fun expected, even if I received a 
broken neck for my daredevil recklessness, 
excited them to the highest pitch. 

The reader has undoubtedly seen in the 
Wild West circuses the old-fashioned over- 
land coach hung by heavy springs from front 
to rear axle. One of the most uncomfortable 
conveyances to ride in ever invented, espec- 
ially for the driver, for, if the coach was not 
heavily loaded, when the front wheels dropped 
into a hole the old ramshackle thing was 
liable to topple over on the animals; and, 
if the driver was not securely strapped to 
the seat when the rear wheels reached the 
hole, he would land some distance in the 
rear. The contractor had the old ark properly 
balanced before starting, so I had no excuse 
to worry from that source. 

The cowpunchers selected one broncho 
each and after a half hour's bawling, pulling 
and coaxing succeeded in hitching them to 
the coach. I climbed to the seat and 
was securely strapped with a large 
leather apron. Then I gathered up the 



122 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

lines and placed myself solidly for the 
start. 

The whip socket contained a hickory stick 
five feet long with a lash twelve feet in length 
attached to one end. I gave the word to 
let them go, but the little bronchos thought 
different and balked. The number of times 
they bucked and threw themselves, started 
and bucked again, would be impossible to say. 
Finally the contractor accused the drover 
of being in collusion with his cowpuncher 
in order to win the wager by holding the 
bronchos back and a volley of words of not 
very mild character ensued, after which the 
six cowboys, three on either side of the team, 
stood off six feet. The noise made by the 
cracking of their whips their everlasting yelp- 
ing made the excitement stronger than be- 
fore, and I was off on the wildest ride I ever 
took. A hurdle jumper would not stand 
much of a chance with one of those wild 
bronchos. 

A DANGEROUS RIDE 

It was a lovely June morning and the brac- 
ing air of Colorado made me feel as wild as 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 123 

the young animals that were fast wheeling 
me over the dangerous trail and possibly 
into a camp of hostile Indians. I gave no 
thought to danger for I was too busy keeping 
the fiery little beasts to the trail. They 
were going at breakneck speed with no sign 
of tiring, so I let them go enjoying the sport 
even more than they. My hat went flying 
with the wind, I looked back, but could not 
see the ranch. How far I had left it behind, 
or what distance I had covered, I knew not. 

At last I came to myself and realized for 
the first time what terrible danger I was in. 
Slowly turning the team to the right, I began 
a circle, hardly perceptible at first, but 
finally again reaching the trail. On the 
return trip, I plied the long lash to the lead- 
ing pair. They shot forward faster than 
ever, all steaming with foam and covered 
with lather. At a great distance to the south 
I could see a party of Indians riding in the 
same direction. This additional danger seem- 
ed fairly to intoxicate me and I plied the 
whip with all my strength. The corral 
loomed up and then the stage station. The 



124 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

others, with hands in their pockets and mouth 
agap, were holding their breath; and, as we 
wheeled past them, the cowboys lashing 
the bronchos, a mighty shout went up. I 
had won the wager and was the lion of the day. 

We did not make a start until the follow- 
ing morning. We fastened the bronchos 
together and tied the leader to the rear 
of the coach, and thus resumed our journey 
to the hills, where we safely arrived two days 
later, but minus four of the treacherous 
brutes. At night we always picketed them 
with the mules and the four that were lost 
had pulled their picket irons and undoubtedly 
gone to join the much read of ''wild horses 
of the plains." 

The camp in the hills consisted of shanties 
for fifteen hundred men, saw mill, and outfit 
store. The latter included in its stock plenty 
of the best kind of liquor. Each man was 
allowed three drinks a day and no more. 

I had the books straightened out in due 
time and one day the contractor discovered 
he would soon be out of flour, and the nearest 
point at which it could be purchased was 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 125 

La Port, seventy-five miles distant. The 
Indians were troublesome, and each man 
who was asked refused to go, with one excep- 
tion. The contractor finally made me a 
tempting offer to accompany a driver of a 
six mule team. I accepted, and at break 
of day the next morning we started. My 
companion on that dangerous trip was a 
plucky son of the Emerald Isle. We camped 
that night on Lodge Pole Creek. On the 
opposite side was an adobe ranch, and an 
immense stockade owned by a Frenchman 
with a Sioux squaw for a wife. 

In our hurried start we had forgotten our 
tobacco, and without it my companion seemed 
lost. After grub I mounted my horse, and 
crossed over the creek to procure some. On 
making my wants known, I was freely sup- 
plied with tobacco, and was also informed 
that before we arrived they had been fighting 
the Indians for some time; that one of the 
cowboys had an arm badly shattered; and 
that they feared another attack the next 
morning. I returned to camp and told my 
companion of our danger. 



126 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

A WELCOME HAVEN 

After giving the animals plenty of feed 
and rest, we again took the trail at 4:30 a. m. 
As the day dawned, with the aid of a field 
glass, I discovered Indians swooping down 
on the ranch with the stockade at break- 
neck speed, and others coming in our direc- 
tion. I told Patrick to urge the mules to 
a gallop. He suspected the cause and did 
so at once. Over the rolling ground we flew 
until the sun was well up in the heavens, and 
as each hour passed the redskins gained on 
us, until at last they could be seen with the 
naked eye. The harsh and cruel war-whoop 
of those blood-thirsty savages echoed and 
re-echoed back from the distant hills, and 
over the desolate plains until men and beasts 
were crazed to desperation. The lash was 
put to the already tired mules, and we 
strained every nerve to reach the crest of the 
next knoll, hoping against hope for succor. 
On they came, their warwhoops for scalps 
and the white man's blood was now con- 
tinuous. The long feared report of their 
rifles was at last heard; bullets pierced our 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 127 

canvas covered wagon. We made a last 
desperate effort and reached the summit 
of the bluff. Not a half a mile from its base 
was a large corral of white covered wagons. 
Down the incline we flew, looking neither to 
the right nor the left, and, on reaching the 
corral, both men and beasts fell into a heap 
exhausted. 

The red devils rode to the top of the hill, 
and the warwhoop of anger they sent up rings 
in my ears at times to this very day. 

That evening we again took the trail and 
made the remainder of the trip by night 
drives. Reaching La Port the third morn- 
ing, we secured our load and after giving 
the animals a much needed rest we started 
on the return trip. The fourth morning we 
arrived at the ranch with the stockade. 
Three mornings after we reached the foot of 
the hills where the company had a log cabin 
for their hunters and trappers, who, with 
their trusty rifles, furnished antelope, deer 
and buffalo meat for their small army of 
employees. On entering, a sight met our 
gaze too revolting to pass from memory. 



128 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

Upon the earthy floor lay two of those 
sturdy and warm-hearted dwellers of the 
plains and rookies, cold in death, scalped 
and mutilated almost beyond recognition — 
a deed committed by those dastardly red 
fiends of the Far West. Both were friends of 
mine and with uncovered head, in the presence 
of that gritty son of old Ireland, I vowed 
vengeance. 

"At least, Charlie" said Patrick, "Let's 
give them a decent burial and move on." 

We did so, reaching camp that evening 
just as the sun, with its beautiful tints of 
carmine, was bidding plains and hills good- 
night, as if in memory of those stalwart and 
brave men who made the settlement and 
civilization of the West possible. 




CHAPTER VII 
.^ A PLUCKY GERMAN 

^^WO WEEKS later a strap- 
ping six-foot German, who 
was in charge of another camp 
further down the Hne, came for 
a visit. Shortly after his arrival, he proposed 
that we should go hunting, to which I agreed. 
That morning, as usual, the men called 
for their liquor, and among them was a long 
lanky fellow with red hair and bushy beard. 
He certainly had the appearance of an out- 
law. He had received one glass of grog and 
came for the second which I refused him. 
Without a word I was on my back. At that 
point the German came in and caught him 
with the left hand in the same locality. 
Suffering with pain and crazed with liquor, 
he left the store, secured his revolvers and 
returned. I was behind the counter at the 
time with my back to the door. The first 
thing I knew I heard the report of a revolver 
and a bullet whizzed past my ear and buried 



130 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

itself in a can of tomatoes not six inches 
from my head. As I turned around, I saw 
the fellow being propelled through the door 
by the German's right. At that point the 
contractor came in and after being told of 
what had happened, he discharged the fellow. 
He wished to retain his revolvers, but his 
request was not granted. He had an old- 
fashioned army musket and begged to be 
allowed to keep that. I told Mr. A — not 
to let him have it for I was satisfied from the 
blow he gave me that he was a bad actor; 
but Mr. A — , being good natured and kind 
hearted, consented. He ordered four days' 
rations put up for him and he left camp in 
an ugly mood and was given no further 
thought. 

After grub, the German proposed that we 
flip a coin to see who should go for the horses. 
The visitor losing, he at once started for 
the canyon below where the horses were 
grazing. Shortly after I heard a shot and 
then many more, but gave it no heed as it 
was a common occurrence there. Half an 
hour later one of the men came in and told 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 131 

me that the German lay dead in the canyon 
below. I, with the others in camp, proceeded 
to the point indicated, where we found the 
poor fellow lying on his back. A bullet 
from that villian's musket had pierced his 
heart. His watch, belt of cartridges, revol- 
vers, and repeating carbine were gone. After 
we returned with the body, Mr. A — had the 
mill whistle blown calling all hands to quarters 
and for three days and nights with little 
sleep or rest we searched those hills and 
trails leading to Salt Lake and Denver. 
We picketed men on each trail to search all 
passing trains; but the demon gave us the 
slip, and cheated that maddened crowd 
of a lynching, or something worse; perhaps 
a tug of war between two wild bronchos, 
which we had in camp, with that man's 
body as the connecting link. 

I can to this day remember just how that 
poor fellow looked; cold in death, far from 
home and loved ones, with no mother to 
weep at his bier. With uncovered heads 
we lowered him in earth, in a rough box, 
at the foot of one of the tall sentinels of the 



132 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

hills, and placed a slab to mark the spot, 

that his friends might some day claim all 

that remained of as brave and honest a 
German as ever lived. 

A WATCHFUL PROVIDENCE 

Thus by the toss of a coin was my life 
again spared. This last narrow escape from 
death was the fourteenth of which I positively 
knew, and how many more that I did not 
know of, it is impossible to tell ; so I made up 
my mind to get out of the country alive, if 
possible. I informed Mr. A — of my inten- 
tions and the following day closed my busi- 
ness and at dusk that evening I started, 
unaccompanied, on a two hundred mile ride 
over a trail watched by hundreds of blood- 
thirsty Indians. I knew that no Indian 
pony could overtake my fleet runner, and all 
that was to be feared was a surprise or have 
my horse shot from under me. I camped 
far from the trail, with lariat fastened to 
my wrist, never closing my eyes until my 
faithful animal had laid down for the day. 
His first move at dusk awoke me, and, after 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 133 

feed, we were off with the wind at breakneck 
speed. 

At the close of the second day, while I lay 
sleeping on the desert sands with the saddle 
blanket for a pillow, and dreaming of my 
far away home, it seemed as if something of 
a slimy nature was slowly crawling over the 
calf of my bare leg. On gaining partial 
consciousness, too quickly did I realize that 
it was a reality and not a dream. A rattle- 
snake's long slimy body was crossing that 
bridge of flesh, squirming along for a couple 
of inches, then raising its repulsive body a 
foot or more and turning its insignificant 
head, would look straight towards my partly 
closed eyes and, with its hideous mouth 
agap, would dart its poisonous arrow-like 
tongue in and out like lightning, then 
lowering itself, it would resume the same 
tactics as before. How many times it re- 
peated this, I shall never know. No words 
have ever been formed that can adequately 
express the feeling that took possession of 
me. I seemed powerless to move a muscle 
or twitch an eye-lid. The suspense was 



134 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

terrible, expecting each time that the slimy 
body descended the viper would thrust his 
poisonous lance into my leg and all would 
be over. The horror of it all cannot be 
imagined, and to this day, when I recall the 
incident, it sends a shiver through my entire 
body. As the coarse rattles of his tail left 
the bare flesh of my leg, my senses seemed 
to return; but it was only for a moment, 
for through the pant of my right leg I felt 
that same crawling sensation and I knew in 
an instant that it was a mate following the 
one that had just passed over the bridge of 
flesh. As soon as it reached the bare leg 
the dirty reptile went through the same 
horrible stunts as the first one. The agony 
seemed impossible to bear and when at last 
the thing had completed its journey and was 
at a safe distance away, I leaped into the 
air — how far I shall leave the reader to sur- 
mise. Crazed with anger and trembling 
from head to foot, I rushed for my revolvers 
and fired at random. I was considered a 
good shot in those days, but in this excited 
condition I would not have been able to hit a 



136 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

barn. I ran for my Henry Carbine and, 
grasping it by the barrel, made short work 
of ridding the earth of the cause that had 
produced the most terrifying scare experience 
during my western life. 

THE FAITHFUL HORSE 

For the first time during the excitement 
my thoughts turned to my faithful horse, 
but he was nowhere to be seen. The horror 
of the situation began to dawn upon me and 
I realized at once that I was lost on that 
desolate plain — one hundred miles from any 
camp that I knew of and apparently alone. 
I cried out, "My God, what can be done!" 
The thought was enough to drive one crazy. 
Can I ever forget it? I think not; nor could 
anyone. Even to see or talk to an Indian 
would have been a comfort. Driven to 
agonizing despair I ran for my field glass and 
scanned the rolling ground in every direction. 
Buffalo, deer, antelope, coyote, and a small 
party of horsemen were visible, but the 
latter too far away to make out if they were 
United States Cavalrymen or Indians. Look- 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 137 

ing again, without my glass, I discovered my 
horse standing on a high knoll not more than 
a half mile away with head and tail erect; 
the breath from his dilated nostrils ascending 
heavenward in the cold October air and 
presenting a picture for an artist. I called 
loudly, ''Billie, Billie" and with outstretched 
hand walked slowly toward him, but he looked 
not in my direction. All of a sudden he 
made a quick bound and was off. My heart 
seemed to stop beating. A minute seemed 
an hour; but I kept walking after him and 
he finally stopped, turned around and faced 
me. That look can never be forgotten. 
With ears thrown back, he came slowly 
toward me. Again, I called "Billie, Billie," 
and held out both hands and with a whinner 
he came on a gallop, trembling in every 
muscle, seemingly as frightened as myself. 
I patted his neck, straightened out his rich 
heavy mane, rubbed his face and nose and 
kissed him. He licked my cheek and hand 
in appreciation of my welcome; moisture 
gathered in his large eyes and I cried with 
joy — like a child that I was — and then we 



138 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

both felt better. I coiled up the lariat 
and placed my right arm over his perfectly 
formed neck and slowly walked to our little 
camp. I rubbed him down until he was 
perfectly dry; then curried, brushed and 
rubbed until I could almost see myself in 
his coat of silky hair. Then I made him lay 
down and did the same thing myself, using 
his withers and mane for a pillow. When 
I awoke the moon shown full in our faces. 
I patted his neck and soon those large eyes 
were looking affectionately into mine. I 
sprang to my feet and he did the same. 
After brushing off the side on which he had 
laid, I placed the saddle blanket, buckled 
taut the saddle, gathered up my small camp 
kit and fastened it to the rear of the saddle, 
coiled the lariat and hung it on the pommel 
of the saddle, fastened on my spurs — from 
which he had never felt even the slightest 
touch — threw my field glass over my left 
shoulder, buckled on my cartridge belt and 
revolvers, swung my canteen and Henry 
Carbine over my right shoulder, and with a 
leap, landed astride the saddle, and was off 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 139 

with the wind in search of the trail two full 
miles away. 

THE INDIANS CAPTURE A FRIEND 

Early on the morning of the third day, I 
stopped at a stage station, where I met the 
assistant wagon boss who was with the bull 
train during my first trip across the plains. 
He was a genuine Missouri Bushwacker 
and a desperate fellow. Like all others 
of his class he wore his hair long, making it 
a much coveted prize for the Indians. After 
the days visit and relating our experience 
of western life, he told me that he was on 
his way to the Black Hills. I reluctantly 
volunteered the information to him that I 
did not think he would ever reach there on 
the old skate he was riding, and that he 
should not venture on the trail until after 
dark, but he knew it all and started at sun- 
down. I was sure the fellow would never 
reach the Hills, nor was I mistaken, for 
in less than an hour the Salt Lake Coach 
rolled up to the door of the station, and the 
driver asked if a horseman had put up at 



140 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

the place, and being informed that there 
had, told us the Indians had captured him 
and tied him to one of their own ponies 
and was rapidly going north, leaving his old 
nag to be picked up by any one who would 
care for it. Not a day passed that the un- 
welcome savages were not to be seen, and 
we were chased many times, but the faith- 
ful animal reached Denver in safety. 

The Union Pacific railroad had then reached 
Julesburg and I conceived the hazardous 
idea of reaching that point by navigating 
the Platte River — a distance of three hun- 
dred miles — so I at once ordered a flat bot- 
tomed boat built of material in the rough. 

A CUNNING SCHEMER 

I next went in quest of my aged chum, 
the ex-pig dealer, who, when found, revealed 
by a twinkle in his eye another dare-devil 
scheme, which he was quite capable of con- 
cocting when alone in his warehouse den. 
He exclaimed, with much feeling and a 
forced tear, that he was right down glad to 
see me safely back and gave me little rest 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 141 

until I had related my experiences in the 
hills. He then unfolded his diabolical scheme, 
whereby both of us could lay a foundation 
for a fortune. I was in need of the latter, 
without any question, but not by this 
method. 

Cheyenne had just been surveyed, mapped 
and laid out, and the proposition was for 
him to furnish a man, two mule teams, 
wagons, tents, provisions and all other neces- 
sities; and this man and myself were to 
go there and squat or take possession of 
two sections of Government land, consist- 
ing of one hundred and sixty acres each, 
located just outside the city limits. The 
offer was promptly rejected, and it destroyed 
the last particle of friendship that had 
existed between us as far as I was concerned. 
I had just been through that part of the 
country and had narrowly escaped death 
many times, and for us to carry out this 
scheme, I knew would be impossible, for 
the tricky redskins would be certain to 
capture us. I cannot recollect the exact 
reply that I made him, but am positive I 



142 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

requested him to go to Hades by the shortest 
possible route. We parted in anger after 
three long years of friendship. The old 
major's love for the almighty dollar was the 
cause. I never did have a very strong desire 
to furnish material to the cruel savages for 
one of their home scalp dances, and besides 
my mind was made up to leave Colorado, 
which I did. 

I afterwards made the acquaintance of a 
young fellow, a college graduate who had 
been unable to secure a position to his liking 
and was anxious to return to the States. 
After a few days of good fellowship, and 
finding him of the right material, I made 
my plans known to him. He at once fell 
in with them, and a week later we embarked 
on our perilous journey. We started at full 
moon drifting with a comparatively strong 
current using paddles to guide our roughly 
constructed craft. We made nightly rides 
of about fifty miles, and at dawn would land 
on one of the small islands of the river, 
conceal ourselves and the boat in the tall 
grass from which we were able to see all 



144 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

that passed by trail and bluffs, and not be 
seen ourselves. Our greatest danger was 
in being discovered by the Indians on the 
high bluffs, or a visit from them to the island 
we occupied. The first scare we had was 
when a party of a dozen or more rode to the 
bank of the river for the purpose, as we 
supposed, of crossing. They seemed, how- 
ever, undecided as to their course, but finally 
urged their ponies down the bank and into 
the river. To describe our feelings would 
be impossible. Just then, to us, a minute 
seemed an hour. Cold beads of perspira- 
tion stood out on both, not exactly from 
fear, but a sort of yearning to be elsewhere; 
and I wondered, after all that I had passed 
through, if I was to be cut down on my home- 
ward journey by those fiendish red devils. 
"Saved!" whispered my friend, ''they are 
leaving the river." And sure enough those 
little prairie ponies were climbing the bank 
on a dead run for the bluffs. 

The last night of that eventful ride lasted 
long until after the sun was up. The large 
Concord coach filled with passengers passed 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 145 

close to the river bank a short time before, 
and from the driver we learned we were ten 
miles from Julesburg. We proceeded, keep- 
ing close to the bank, and with field glass 
continually swept the valley and bliiffs in 
every direction. We were facing a mild 
and depressing wind. All of a sudden dismal 
sounds reached our ears, and as the noiseless 
current of the river rounded the projecting 
points in its banks, it bore our staunch old 
craft to a place of safety, or ourselves to a 
cruel death, we knew not which. The 
sounds became more distinct until both of 
us were satisfied that the Indians had cap- 
tured the overland coach with its load of 
human freight. As we rounded the next 
bend the river took a straight course, but 
there was no island in sight. 

''No island in sight," said my friend. 
''Where can we go?" And turning around 
I discovered he was as white as a sheet. As 
for myself, I was hanging to the edge of the 
bank trying hard to collect my wits and 
recover from a fainting spell. We finally 
managed to get the boat back and around 



146 DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 

the bend where we lay concealed for some 
time, suffering the torture of Hades. I 
finally crawled to the top of the bank and 
with field glass surveyed the locality in every 
direction. No life was visible, still the 
unearthly noise kept up, and the feeling of 
those two lone travelers would be impossible 
to describe. The thought at last came to 
me that we must be somewhere in the vicinity 
of the old California Crossing. I crawled 
back to the boat and told my companion to 
go ahead, while I continually used the field 
glass. After fifteen minutes, I discovered 
a white speck in the eastern horizon. We 
were soon over our fright, and with light 
hearts were sailing over the rippling waters 
of the old Platte feeling assured that we would 
soon reach a place of safety, as far as the 
Indians were concerned. 

On arriving at the crossing, which it proved 
to be, we found one of those large white 
covered prairie schooners stalled in the middle 
of the stream, and fifty Greasers, as the 
Mexican drivers were called, and as many 
yoke of oxen trying to haul it out. 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 



147 



FAREWELL TO THE PLAINS 

We sailed merrily along and at two P. m. 
reached Jtilesburg, the then terminus of the 
Union Pacific railroad and overland shipping 
point for all territory west, north and south. 
The Union Pacific railroad, when under 
construction, made a terminus every two or 
three hundred miles. The houses were built 
in sections, so they were easily taken apart, 
loaded on flat freight cars, and taken to the 
next terminus completely deserting the former 
town. Julesburg was rightfully named ''The 
Portable Hell of the Plains." My finer 
feeHngs cannot, if words could, attempt a 
description. Suffice to say that during the 
three days we were there four men and women 
were buried in their street costimies. The 
fourth day we boarded a Union Pacific train 
and were whirled to its Eastern terminus, 
Omaha, thence home, arriving safely after 
an absence of four years. 

The habits formed during those western 
years were hard to change, and the fight of 
my life to live a semblance of the proper life, 
required a will power as irresistible as the 



148 



DANGERS OF THE TRAIL 



crystal quartz taken from the lofty snow 
capped mountain sides, taking tons of weight 
to crush it, that the good might be separated 
from the worthless. 




AUG 7 1912 



